


Bleeding Out

by SmilingSkull



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Backstory Expansion, Blood and Gore, Death-centered themes, Frederick can't catch a break, Gen, Headcanon Treated as Fact, In Sickness and in- Ah dammit I forgot the health part!, Libra cares too much, Minor Spoilers, Plegian Racism, Slow Build, Sorry if I make you cry unless you're into that in which case you're welcome, Strong Language, oh yes there will be blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-09 07:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12271497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilingSkull/pseuds/SmilingSkull
Summary: Henry is an outcast among his Ylissean comrades. Libra knows the feeling.Neither would call the other a friend, but when tragedy strikes and the mage's life hangs in the balance, Libra is the only one who can help him.Though in the heat of war, no choice is without consequence and this one will change his life forever.





	1. Sincerity

            Vaike leans forward, placing a calloused hand on his knee. "And then Teach said, 'No dumbass, that ain't no horse.  _This_ is a horse."

            The crowd around the campfire bursts into laughter but I remain silent. I smile to be polite, but I fail to see why some Plegian's ironic misunderstanding of our language is so funny.

            There aren't many people here: just Vaike, Sully, Gregor, Donnel and myself.

At first it was just me; I sat down by myself to say a few evening prayers. Then the others came along all at once, and I guess they were cold because they built a fire. They've been openly mocking Plegians ever since, and it's growing tiresome.

I'm able to tune them out enough that I can resume reciting the words in my head.

            This is when Vaike turns to me. "What about you, Priest?"

What about me?

"You got any good Plegian horror stories?"

He thinks I want to be a part of this?

            I hold my hands up in front of me. "Oh no, not me."

            He slumps his broad shoulders. "Aww, come on. All that time you spent on the Bastards' Border, you can't tell me you didn't have one weird incident with those flea-bitten dogs."

            I wish he hadn't brought that up.

I don't like to think about the time I spent in Plegia; It only makes me think of the last time I saw the Exalt. The image flashes into my mind of Lady Emmeryn plunging to her death and I shudder.

            Vaike raises his chin with a smirk. "Ah, see? I know that look."

What look? Oh.

"Tell us all about it" He leans forward again and winks. "Don't make ol' Teach twist your arm."

            Everyone stares at me expectantly.

I shift in my seat on one of the fireside logs, looking away from their eager faces and into the crackling flame.

I can think of several encounters I've had with Plegians that were less than pleasant, but that doesn't mean I want to make jokes at their expense. Is there a way for me to say that without everyone here thinking I'm a killjoy? No, I don't think there is. Besides, I suppose in a way, I kind of am.

            After an uncomfortably long silence, Vaike finally shrugs. "Meh, whatever Priest. You wanna keep all the good stories to yourself? That's fine by me."

            To my relief, the others all turn their burning gazes back to him.

            He continues, "Anyway, I'm pretty sure Gregor would have you beat."

            With everyone once again disinterested in me, I can finally continue praying. I try to ignore Vaike's voice, letting my eyes wander into the distance over his shoulder. This is when I notice someone walking toward our little group, and in the dying sunlight that surrounds us I see the shine of white hair.

It's Henry.

He clutches a tome at his side and smiles when his eyes meet mine.

I'm the only one who sees him.

            Vaike's about to say something offensive, I know he is. He hasn't spoken a considerate word since he sat down.

I cough to get his attention but he doesn't stop talking."Oi Greg, remember-"

            "Ahem," I cough again and he still ignores me.

            "-that time a Plegian whore tricked you into marrying her?"

            Henry stops dead in his tracks.

Damn.

His smile fades but doesn't disappear, instead it grows small and tight-lipped. Eyes cast down, he wraps his other arm around his tome and walks away.

No one else even noticed him.

            Gregor throws his head back with a laugh. "How could Gregor forget? It goes little something like this..."

            I haven't the patience to sit through another one of these hateful tales. I stand up, and no one can be bothered to even glance at me as I leave.

I go the same way Henry went, to where the tents are still being set up. I spot him kneeling on the grass at the very end of a row, rummaging through his pack.

            "Hey." I raise a hand in greeting.

            Henry looks up at me and smiles like he's surprised. "Oh, hey Libra, I didn't see you there. Taking a leaf out of Kellam's book are we?"

            "Um, what?"

            He shakes his head. "Never mind."

I find it hard to believe that it's even possible for Henry to not have heard me approaching, but I give him benefit of the doubt.

He goes back to pulling out his sheet, and I can't help but feel like he's ignoring me. Now with the sheet piled beside him, he hums as he fishes out a pair of poles and some stakes.

I didn't come here to watch him pitch his tent.

            I clear my throat. "Henry?"

            "Mmhm?" he hums, standing a pole up in front of him.

            "I just want to say that I'm sorry you had to hear what the others were saying."

            He freezes with his hand resting on top of the pole. He doesn't look at me.

            I continue talking to his back, "I'm sure they didn't mean any harm, they just don't know any better."

There's a long silence.

            "No," he finally says and sighs. "You don't, do you?"

A violet light flashes beneath his hand and the pole drives itself into the ground.

            I shake my head. "I don't... understand."

            Henry stands up with the other pole in his hand, turning to face me. He raises a finger up by his face and whispers, "Exactly."

He bears a wide smile but I notice that it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He gives a laugh that could almost be genuine if not for the way he's glaring at me...

It's more than a little intimidating.

            "I wasn't... participating, if that's what you think." I struggle to keep my voice calm, wondering why he doubts my sincerity. As a result, it comes out higher and even more feminine than usual. 

            "I know," he says. "You wouldn't be here if you thought you were at fault."

Actually I would, but I don't argue.

"So let me ask you something: the entire time those guys were making jokes and slurs about us Plegians- and don't deny that's what they were doing- did you even once defend us?"

I hate to admit it, but he's got a point. Though the thought did cross my mind, I never actually voiced my objection to the others' crudeness.

            "Well..." I sigh. "No."

            Henry hurls the pole at the ground, and with another flash of light it sinks down a few feet behind the other one. "Then you know why I don't wanna talk to you right now."

He's still smiling, but his eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance.

            I look down. "I understand, and I'm sorry."

            He shakes his head. "No you're not, but that's okay. I don't expect you to be." Now he picks up his sheet and throws it over the poles, ignoring me as he adjusts it.

            I can take a hint.

I go back the way I came without another word, feeling a weight in my chest.

I don't see Henry again the whole rest of the evening, and I feel bad because I know I'm to blame. I don't know the young dark mage all that well, but I know that I caused him pain, and the fact that I couldn't make it up to him bothers me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So, yeah. What'd you think?  
>  This is an original idea of mine. Don't worry, things will go downhill for our heroes soon.  
> I'll be posting a new chapter every week, so stay tuned!  
> ...  
> Gods, that sounded cheesy.


	2. Vengeance tastes a little like blood.

            The next morning, we make our way to an outpost on the Ylissean border, one that Frederick tells us has been taken over by a small squadron of the Plegian army. He says if we can take it back that it will give us a major advantage in the war. 

He seems optimistic.

It's a long and exhausting walk through thick woods, but eventually we reach an enormous field, on the far end of which are four towers that mark the corners of the outpost.

We stay on the edge of the woods, well hidden from our enemies' eyes by thick brush and foliage as we prepare for the oncoming battle.

            Robin moves to the front of the group now and turns to face us, clapping her gloved hands together. "All right, so here's the plan. For those of you who couldn't make it to last night's briefing,"

I can't be sure, but it looks like her eyes shift to Henry when she says this.

"I'm going to go over this one last time. Now, we're all familiar with the interior layout of Ylissean outposts..." She proceeds to give us a recap of the strategy she explained to us last night.

            Even for the people who heard it the first time, I can see the importance of such a recap. I, for one, want to make sure I know what I'm doing  _before_ heading into a potentially deadly situation. A few of my fellow Shepherds don't appear to share this view, as they are clearly not listening.

In just one small area of the crowd, I see that Virion is fussing over his hair, Nowi's stripping pieces of bark off a tree, and Henry is happily engaged in a conversation with a crow that's perched on his hand.

I can do little but pray their ignorance doesn't hinder the success of this mission.

            Robin keeps talking despite them. "Now I know all of you have experience fighting Plegian troops, but General Taurel's men are a little different."

            Henry snaps to attention so suddenly I have to wonder what Robin said that was so interesting. Whatever it was, it's making him stare at her with an intensity he usually saves for his enemies on the battlefield. 

            "...Also they'll tend to focus on speed more than defense, but other than that, their fighting style shouldn't differ much from what you're used to. So just remember your training and I'm sure we'll all do just fine," Robin concludes with an affirming nod.

            Now Frederick moves up next to the tactician, along with our captain, Prince Chrom.

The knight clears his throat. "Thank you, Robin. That was most adequate, er for all but one detail." He addresses us now. "Shepherds, I feel it necessary to add that you cannot expect a fair fight from these men. They may be trained soldiers, but they are still dirty, underhanded Plegians, and you will do well to remember it."

            There's a huff from in front of me. Tharja's standing there, gripping her tome quite a bit tighter than usual.

            Chrom must have noticed, as he's quick to hold up his hands with a nervous laugh. "All right, Sir Frederick, that is quite enough." He steps forward. "Now, who's ready to take back what's rightfully ours?"

He holds a fist high above his head and there's a unanimous shouting of agreement. I even see the armored fists shooting up out of the crowd, of Ylissean knights copying their commanders rallying gesture.

            We cross the battlefield at a furious pace. At this rate, we'll reach the outpost in a matter of minutes. There's no sign of the enemy troops yet; it's likely they haven't even noticed us.

Things couldn't be going better... until they couldn't be going worse.

They've noticed us all right, and it's from their flying arrows that we notice them.

We've been keeping our eyes on the outpost, but they aren't anywhere near it.

They're all around us.

They knew we were coming.

            A quarter of my comrades are hit by the arrows, and half of those are fallen by them.

Robin isn't telling us what we should do. She's just standing there, eyes wide with horror as she watches her friends collapse around her. There's no way she could have predicted an ambush like this; it wasn't even considered in the realm of possibilities. I can't say I blame her for freezing up, but we can't just keep letting them bombard us with arrows. Strategy or no strategy, we have to fight back.

            Frederick seems to realize this, as he begins barking new orders at us. "Everybody spread out! Go fast and go far. Tight groups will make us vulnerable." I hear him add under his breath. "Damn these Plegian dogs!" With that, he kicks his steed into a gallop and impales the nearest archer with his powerful lance.

            The others fan out and engage in combat, distracting our enemies enough that I can safely tend to the wounded.

It's disheartening how many of them I end up sending back to camp, especially this early in the battle, but I try not to linger on it.

            Catching up with some of my comrades, I spot an archer who's aiming his arrow at Sumia's back.

I run at him, pulling out my axe mid-stride. Closing the distance between us, I swing it fast and hard. "Repent, sinner!"

            The blow kills him instantly, but he looses his arrow just before he falls.

Though I'm afraid of what I'll see, I look back anyway and quickly wish I hadn't.

Sumia and her pegasus are tangled in a heap on the ground.

I wasn't fast enough.

A little ways behind the fallen pegasus knight, I notice Kellam is hunched over in pain.

How did I not see him sooner?

He's facing off against an axe-weilding wyvern rider who's dodging his every attack.

Things are not looking good for him.

Without a moment's hesitation, I charge to his aid, but I'm too late. The rider wedges his sharp blade right in the armor gap on Kellam's leg, knocking him off his feet with a spurt of red.

            "They...saw me..." the knight whispers as I lunge past him, swinging my own axe at his foe.

            It's no use; he slips away and then goes on to strike down Stahl.

I can do nothing but watch as Stahl's horse rolls overtop of him.

I couldn't even help him. I couldn't help any of them.

Ylissean soldiers are falling all around me faster than I can keep up. We were outnumbered to start with, but now only a few minutes in, we've lost half our troops along with all hope of winning a battle that was supposed to be easy.

I turn to Kellam. His wound is beyond my healing capabilities. It's the best I can do to tie it off in a tourniquet and wave Sully over to take him off the field.

I would just keep moving, but I worry no one would see him here.

...I finally understand Henry's comment from last night.

            I cross over to the other side of the field, healing two allies on my way. Robin is here. She's regained her composure and is directing everyone's efforts. They're actually doing well, but the tactician is too focused on them to notice the brigand that's sneaking up behind her.

I reach her just in time to deflect the attack and slice off the man's head.

Suddenly something heavy slams into my back, almost knocking me over.

I turn around and hear myself gasp. It's Robin, falling on me. 

I catch her just in time to soften her landing. Now I turn to her second assailant and see Lon'qu wrenching his sword out of the man's chest. He gives me a nod before pressing on.

            I try giving Robin a vulnary, but it's no use. I'm forced to leave her there.

Without our tactician's guidance, the field falls into chaos. Our team's morale is gone. It almost looks like they're all just giving up. At this point, it's only a matter of time before Prince Chrom calls for a retreat.

This is when I hear someone shouting, and it isn't Chrom.

It almost sounds like... Henry.

I look the direction the noise is coming from and I don't see him at first. This is because he's not even on the battlefield. He's well outside of it and is screaming in the face of a man who's kneeling at his feet.

Curious, I move closer, making sure there's no one around to attack me.

The man is clutching his side, where there's a dark red stain in his tunic. That's only the worst of his wounds though; he has little cuts all over his neck and face and everywhere else his armor doesn't cover.

What has Henry been doing to him?

Though it's smeared with blood, I'm able to make out the crest of a bull on his shoulder plate.

What was that Robin was telling us about a bull crest last night?

Oh, I remember. That man isn't just any soldier, he's the general.

He's General Taurel.

            Why hasn't Henry killed him already? Why draw out his suffering like this?

Another second spent watching them and I think I see why. Even from this distance, I notice the glimmer of tears on his face, the way he's clenching his fists.

This is something personal.

They know each other somehow.

            Henry starts shouting again, and now I'm close enough that I can hear what he's saying. "You stole something very precious from me. Do you remember?"

            The general's shoulders shake along with his head and he whimpers.

            "Hm? Sorry, I didn't get that." Henry twirls an already bloody dagger between his fingers. "Want me to make your mouth a little wider so I can hear you better?"

            "NO!" he screams. He moves to get up, but it's like something has him rooted in place.

            "No what?" Henry presses the blade to the corner of his mouth.

            The general starts to turn his head away, but again it's like some invisible force is restricting his movement. "No, I don't remember! I don't-, I..." He wails like a small child.

            "Of course you don't" Henry withdraws the knife. "You destroyed countless lives that day. Why, out of all of them, would mine stand out to you? Why should you remember taking away my very reason for living?" I never thought a smile could look as scary as the one Henry's wearing now. Despite his cheery expression though, he's acting deadly serious. "I'll tell you why. Because you murdered a child, you fucking bastard." There's a catch in his voice. "He wasn't even seventeen, yet you didn't think twice before taking his life."

Who is he talking about?

            "N-no, I did! I did think twice. Believe me, I-I remember the boy, he-"

            "LIAR!!" Henry splits his brow down to the bone, making him scream. "You're lying! You don't even know his name." His eyes brim with tears. "...No one did."

            Normally, I wouldn't stay in any one spot on the battlefield longer than I have to, but the Shepherds are going to lose this battle with or without me. I don't see any allies around who need my help. Actually, the nearest one who might is Henry. Though I highly doubt that, I don't see the harm in sticking around a bit longer.

            After a moment of silence, Henry's smile returns. "You wanna know why I'm doing this to you? I'll tell you. Because that kid who meant nothing to you? He meant everything to me. He was my whole life, and you stole him from me. You took away my life."

He touches the tip of the dagger to his throat.

"Hell, I'm just here to return the favor."

            "Taurel is trembling all over. "Please!" He chokes on a sob. "P-p..."

            "Please?" Henry cups a hand to his ear. "Please what, spare you?" He has a crazed look in his eyes. "Nyahahaha! You are pathetic." He makes a long, deep cut down the general's cheek, and at his cry of pain, the mage's wicked grin widens. "Don't you know why you're bleeding right now? Huh? It's because you ripped the heart out of his chest."

He shoves a glowing palm against his breastplate, making him howl.

"You killed him." Fresh tears stream down Henry's face. 

"YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!" He pulls his hand away and takes a few shaky breaths. 

"...And now... I'm gonna kill you."

            I glance back at the battlefield. No one's sneaking up on me, thank gods, but Henry's shouting has caught the attention of Plegian and Ylissean troops alike. Some of them have even stopped mid-fight to see what's going on over here.

            Henry doesn't seem to notice them. He's only focused on one person as he steps back and tosses his tome on the grass. He moves his hands into position, eyes locked on his target. Glowing black rings of runes materialize around him as he chants a cryptic incantation from memory. 

Now with a backward sweep of his hand, he releases the spell.

            A glowing black spike erupts from Taurel's abdomen, and his gut-wrenching screams make Henry laugh hysterically.

More and more spikes shoot out of him, impaling every part of his body that isn't vital enough to end his suffering. 

He ends up looking like one of Tharja's voodoo dolls, only bloodier.

There's a faint buzzing, and now with a crack the spikes all connect in a web of violet lightning.

The general's cries of agony are unbearable to listen to, but Henry can't seem to get enough. It's confusing to watch, because despite his apparent glee, he's still crying. Whether those are tears of joy or he's crying in grief, it's impossible to say.

I don't concern myself much with it either way, because when the burnt and mutilated mess that is General Taurel at last collapses, my focus is no longer on Henry but on the thundering footfalls growing louder behind me.

            The Plegian soldiers, all of them are charging over here.

I whip out my axe again, steeling myself to fight the mercenary who's heading my way.

Only I don't end up doing anything because he runs right past me. 

The second soldier does the same thing, as well as the third. It's like I'm not even here.

But if they're not interested in fighting me, then why-?

Oh, I get it.

They're going after Henry. 

He did just kill their general, after all.

There are a lot of them, but I've seen the dark mage take on tougher challenges and survive. After what I just watched him do, I'm not worried.

At least, not until I turn around. 

The Plegians haven't reached him yet, or I've no doubt he'd be dead. 

After all, it's kind of hard to fight off an army when you're vomiting blood.

            I run. I run towards Henry just as fast as my feet will carry me, but there's no way I'll make it in time.

They're already closing in.

They're going to kill him. 

Gods! if only there was a way I could get to him faster... or get him to me.

Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?

I practically skid to a stop as I reach into my medical bag an pull out a Rescue Staff. I forgot I even had it.

I hold it with both hands, directing it's energy at Henry. The orb on the tip glows bright green.

The mercenary reaches him, raising his sword on my defenseless ally.

Why isn't this working?

I squeeze it tighter.  _Come on, please work!_

            With a blinding flash, the orb shatters.

No, what did I do wrong?

The mercenary's blade hits solid ground. 

Wait, so Henry's not there, but he's not here either. Oh gods, what've I done?

There's a retching noise behind me.

I turn around, letting the broken staff slip from my fingers when I see Henry on all fours, blood dripping from his mouth as he struggles to catch his breath. 

What's wrong with him? He seemed fine just a minute ago.

There's no time to thing about that, as the Plegians are already coming back this way.

Henry spews out another mouthful of crimson bile as I drag him to his feet. His knees buckle, but I manage to hold him up; he isn't very heavy. I'm thankful for that, as I have to lift him up off the ground.

His head falls back, his body completely limp in my arms.

Seriously, what is wrong with him?

            They're hot on my tail, even as I speed up to a jog.

There's no way I can fight them all off and keep Henry safe at the same time. The best I can do is keep going, but the woods are so far away I'll never make it.

A brigand is quite literally breathing down my back and I can't outrun him. Soon he'll get close enough with that knife of his and then-

There's a thump as he collapses behind me. Could he have tripped?

No, it was Virion.

I run past him as he pulls back another arrow with a roguish grin and a toss of his silver-blue hair.

My hero.

He's not the only one. The further I go into the battlefield, the more Shepherds meet my pursuers with their own blades.

Eventually, there's no one left to chase me. I make it to the woods after all, disappearing under a cloak of trees with the unconscious mage.

            Henry's mouth and chin are wet with blood, and his cheeks with tears. He doesn't move a muscle, or show any sign of even being alive until the air starts to grow cold and I can see the wisps of his shallow breaths.

My own breaths are far from shallow and much more frequent.

Henry is surprisingly light, but after carrying him for over an hour, my arms are starting to ache.

The path through the woods is long and winding, and there's no end in sight.

I keep telling myself I'm almost there,  _I'm almost there_.

I have to be. My legs are numb and I can't stop shivering. I wonder if I should be worried that Henry's body isn't shaking like mine. It couldn't mean... 

No, now is not the time to be thinking like that.

I press on, calling upon Naga to lend me her strength.

_Just a little bit farther..._

The horizon is red by the time I get there, but I manage to carry him all the way back to camp before My legs give out and everything grows dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I mentioned this earlier, but when I said 'every week,' what I meant was that I'll be updating this fic every  
> Friday at 6:00 p.m. ct.  
> Just thought I'd clarify.


	3. Good to Go

            I wake up on a cot in the infirmary tent.

The air smells of disinfectant.

It's still not dark out, but there are lanterns hanging from the ceiling poles, squeaking as they sway in the light breeze.

            I move to sit up and my head throbs.

Maribelle glances at me as she walks by.

Both she and Princess Lissa are bustling about the tent, neither resting for a second and still they struggle to keep up with treating all of the wounded Shepherds in here.

            I look at the cots beside me. One's empty- no, wait. Kellam's in it. His leg is bandaged and he has a medical bag sitting on top of him.

On my other side is Henry. He's still out, but still breathing.

I breathe a sigh of relief. 

For a moment back there in those woods, I thought he was dead.

            I'm not feeling all that bad. My headache is tolerable, and besides a bit of dizziness I think I'm okay.

I stand up.

            "Whoa there, Padre."

I know that voice.

The ginger thief moves his sucker stick from one side of his mouth to the other.

            "Gaius, what are you-"

A closer look at him answers my question.

Sitting just above his black head tie is a dainty little nurse's cap, red cross and all. And overtop of his scuffed and bloody assassin's outfit, he wears a pristine white and frilly apron.

Maribelle and Lissa must be  _really_ short on hands.

            "Twinkles over there says you're severely dehydrated, or some shit like that."

'Twinkles?' Who is he talking about?

"I'm supposed to give you this."

He heaves that sack he always carries off his shoulder and onto the foot of my cot, pulling out a big canteen of water and handing it to me.

            "...Thank you, Gaius, but I really don't-"

            He raises a hand to silence me. "Hey, no buts unless it's yours on this cot. You need your rest, doctor's orders." He swivels his sucker stick again and picks up his sack. Now he points at the canteen. "I suggest you drink that before Twinkles comes and forces you."

            Sighing, I remove the cap and take a sip as Gaius leaves.

The water is cool and soothing to my dry throat.

I struggle to keep drinking it though, as I find myself worrying more and more about the rest of my comrades.

The sun's setting already and they're still not back, as evident by the fact that Gaius is wearing that hat.

Could they still be out there fighting?

That's doubtful. The Plegians outnumbered them almost two to one.

I shouldn't have abandoned them. 

What if they've lost the fight after all? What if that's the reason they haven't returned yet, because they...

No, I scold myself. Those kinds of thoughts don't do anyone a bit of good.

For all I know, my comrades could've had the sense to retreat. They could be on their way back right now. And while I may not be there with them, I can still help.

I hail to the gods to see them safely back.

It's not much, but it's the best I can do to put my worried mind at ease.

That, and one other thing.

            I make myself down the rest of the water, and take the empty canteen to Maribelle.

"May I have my medical bag, please?"

            Her blonde curls twirl around with her at the sound of my voice. "Libra." She glances at the canteen in my hand. "You should be in bed.

            "I'm not tired."

            "You are also not well." She looks down with a shake of her head. "I gave that man the most specific instructions..."

            "And he followed them. Maribelle, I drank the water and I am feeling much better. While I appreciate your concern, I'm certainly well enough to lend a hand in healing our comrades." 

            Lissa rushes by with a wet towel and a furrowed brow.

            "Besides," I add. "You look like you could use the extra help."

            She looks at me for a moment, those sharp eyes of hers narrowed, studying me.

"Hmph, fine." She takes the empty canteen away. "You bag is next to the tinctures case in the corner. Cordelia over there has a rather nasty gash that needs stitching. Just don't overdo it, okay? That's the last thing we need."

            "Thank you," I say to her back as she walks away.

I stitch Cordelia's wound.

I apply salve to Ricken's burn.

And as I splint Gregor's broken arm, I ask Gaius to let me know when Henry wakes up.

            I treat six more injuries before there's a tap on my shoulder that makes me jump.

            "Easy, Padre. I was just gonna say that Junior's awake, so if you want to catch him before he goes-"

            "Goes?" I interrupt him.

            "Yeah, turns out he's a-okay, so Princess is letting him leave." Gaius takes the bare sucker stick out of his mouth and unwraps a fresh one.

            I push past him, hurrying down the narrow walkway to Henry's cot. 

            The mage is standing beside it, fastening his cloak. When he sees me, he assumes an over-sized smile. "Hey-o Libra! What's goin' on?"

            "You tell me." My brow tenses with concern. "Are you really feeling okay?"

            He nods. "Right as rain, why?"

            "Do you not remember?" I wait a second, but he says nothing. "You were vomiting blood."

            "Hm?" He tilts his head. "Oh yeah, that. I guess I don't really know what that was. I figure it was probably just a side effect of my curse." He shrugs.

How can he just brush it off like that?

"Oh, but did you see it? I mean was it a lot. I think I kind of blacked out. Like was it more or less than a pint?"

I know better than to mistake Henry's questions for concern about his own well-being. He just likes the idea of losing over a pint of blood, for reasons that are beyond me.

            "Henry." It comes out sterner than I intend. "You were unconscious for hours. It's nighttime already."

            He looks around and his smile fades, but returns again just as quickly as it left. "Oh, nyaha, so it is! Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then." He walks around his cot and starts to leave.

            "Wait." I reach out a hand as if it would stop him.

            He keeps walking.

            I go after him. "Stop."

            Henry's cloak swishes forward as he halts. He stands there a moment before turning around. "What, you want a kiss goodnight?"

Despite his cheery grin, the comment seems a bit passive-aggressive.

            I ignore it. "You can't leave yet."

            He looks down at his feet and then back at me. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can."

Why is he being so resistant?

            I take another step toward him. "Aren't you at all concerned by what happened to you? There could still be something wrong. Please, at least let me give you a checkup."

            "Oh, Lissa already did that. She said I'm good to go." He starts to turn away again.

            "Yes, yes I know what she said." I struggle to suppress the urgency in my voice. "I just want to double check, that's all."

            "Why?" Henry crosses his arms. "I feel fine." 

            I shake my head. "You didn't look fine back on that battlefield. Henry, you really scared me." 

I sigh. "If you honestly think there's nothing wrong, then just let me make sure and I promise I'll leave you alone afterward."

            Arms still crossed, his eyes shift to the side.

Why is this so hard for him?

Finally he shrugs. "Okay, whatever. But don't make it take too long, all right?" He raises a finger. "I have an appointment with some crow friends of mine, and you know how they are about punctuality.

I do not know.

            I have Henry sit on his cot again while I examine him. 

His temperature is normal.

Blood pressure: normal.

Eye movement: normal.

Heart rate: A little slow, but still normal.

I run every non-invasive test I can think of and try as I might, I cannot find a single thing wrong with the young Plegian.

If anything, he's healthier than I am.

            "Can I go now?" He squirms as I feel his forehead for the second time.

            "I'm almost done."

I wrack my brain trying to think of any other thing I could test him for.

Surely there must be something...

            "I thought this was gonna be quick." Henry starts to stand up.

            I put a hand on his chest to stop him, and that's when I see something no test would have revealed.

He has a stab wound on his left side that his cloak has been covering this whole time.

            "You're hurt," I say, staring at the wound.

            Henry follows my gaze. "Oh, that? No, it's fine. Lissa already took care of it. She said the knife was still in me so I didn't bleed hardly at all. Kind of a shame if you ask me..."

Now that he mentions it, I do see the stitches.

I can't very well keep him detained for a wound that's already been treated, so when he asks again to leave, I let him.

            Maybe he's right. Maybe the vomiting blood was just a side effect of his curse. 

He is the magic expert, after all.

It bothers me a little that I carried him all the way back here, and somehow failed to notice a literal knife sticking out of his side the whole time.

Was I really that out of it?

            I try not to think about Henry too much as I go back to healing my other comrades.

This isn't hard, as my mind is otherwise occupied worrying about the Shepherds who still haven't returned.

It's too late now for them to have retreated, because they'd be back already.

What if something did happen? What if we should be out there looking for them. 

I tell myself that it's pointless to keep having these thoughts, but that doesn't make them go away.

I'm so distracted by them that Miriel has to stop me from giving her the same medicine twice.

            I'm not the only one who's worried. Lissa can't keep her eyes away from the open entrance flap that looks out onto the woods.

In fact, it's her shout that makes me jump and almost spill the concoction that I'm handing to Stahl.

            "They're back!"

She jumps in excitement and almost bowls Gaius over on her way out of the tent.

Those are the most reliving words I've heard all day.

            Despite my own excitement though, I do not follow her. I see no need.

Just knowing the others are safe fills my heart with peace.

I end up seeing them anyway as their injured are brought in here. One of these is Robin, who's followed in by Chrom and Frederick.

They're smiling.

Well, Frederick's not, but his frown is less intense than usual.

Even Robin, as she's carried in on a stretcher, has a slight curve to her lips.

Could that mean what I think it does?

            Lissa confirms my suspicion when she throws her arms around her brother with a giggle. "I knew you could do it!"

So they actually won, against all odds.

I can hardly believe it.

            Chrom laughs as well when Lissa pulls away. "Well I had my doubts, but when the Plegian general retreated, it was like we were given a second chance."

Retreated?

Can he really not know?

            She plants her hands on her hips. "Well it must not have been a very good chance, because it sure took you a long time to get back."

            He rubs the back of his neck. "Heh, that's actually kind of a long story. And I'll tell you all about it in the mess tent. Tonight, we celebrate!"

            After exchanging a few words with Robin, the prince and his knight leave.

Lissa goes with them, after an approving nod from Maribelle, whose eyes linger on her until she's out of sight.

At some point after that, Gaius slips away as well, but it doesn't matter as much as it would've before when we had more patients for him to help with.

It was a struggle then even for the four of us to keep up with treating everyone, but now Maribelle and I can easily handle things by ourselves.

This might have to do with the fact that our patients start feeling miraculously better at the mention of a celebration.

When the number of occupied cots dwindles into the single digits, I notice my fellow healer staring out at the lively mess tent, her gaze fixed upon a certain blonde princess.

            I walk behind her to get a roll of gauze, pausing before I leave. "It's okay. You can go."

            "I beg your pardon?" She looks at me over her shoulder.

            "I said you can go join the others. I'll finish up here."

            She turns to face me, shaking her head. "Oh, sweet Libra, I could never ask you to do a thing like that."

            "You don't have to; I'm offering. There isn't much left to do here. You go ahead and I won't be long."

            She looks outside again, and then back at me. When I give her a nod, she practically skips to the open flap, beaming. "You are too kind."

The tent seems quieter without her, though that could just be in contrast to the ruckus outside.

            There's more left to do than I let on, and it seems to take longer than anything I've done all evening.

I do it regardless and I do not complain, not even to myself.

And when my last patient is finally taken care of, and I've put out the very last lantern, I go to join up with everyone feeling like I deserve to.

            On my way to the mess tent, Sully brushes past me shouldering a keg of ale.

Someone shouts in excitement as Frederick tosses another log onto his gigantic bonfire. It's so big that I feel the heat of it even walking by from this distance.

As I draw near the tent, I'm engulfed in the smell of hot soup and roasting meat, along with burning wood and a bit of alcohol. The aroma is surprisingly pleasant, much more appealing at least than the iodine and vomit that I've been smelling for the past few hours.

            It's warm inside, and not just from the standing torches that line the walls. It's mostly the shared body heat of everyone crowding into a relatively small space.

I don't mind the crowd as much as I usually would. Maybe it's because I'm just relieved to see them all here alive, or maybe the soup just smells to good for me to care about elbow room.

Shockingly, the noise doesn't overwhelm me either. All the talking and laughing, the shouts and cheers, the group singing over by the kegs, I find it all to be much more tolerable than usual.

            Virion raises his glass to me from across one of the long tables, but no one other than him so much as acknowledges my presence.

I'm perfectly okay with that, as I feel more like eating than conversing right now anyway.

I make my way to the back of the tent, where someone is stirring the big pot of soup.

He lowers the lid that's obstructing his face, and his sucker stick moves with his mouth as he smirks.

Gaius?

He's still wearing that silly apron, but he's swapped out his nurse's cap for a toque.

            When he sees me, he picks up a ladle and a bowl. "Will it be one scoop, or two?"

            "Are you cooking?" I don't mean to ignore his question; I'm just taken by surprise.

            "Serving, actually." He raises the ladle for emphasis. "One scoop, or two?"

            "Er, one please. How did you-"

            "Get stuck with this job?" he finishes, dumping a ladleful of soup into the bowl. "I forgot to take my apron off after I left the sick tent. Freddy Bear saw me wearing it and, well, you can guess the rest." He hands the steaming bowl to me, which warms my freezing hands.

            I linger for a moment longer. "Did you tell him he made a mistake? After all, you've worked for hours already in the infirmary tent."

            He waves a hand downward. "Nah, it's not like I mind much. Someone's gotta do this, and I'm not eating anyway until it's time for dessert." He winks.

            "I... see. Well, thank you."

I'll probably never understand that man.

            It's difficult to find a free spot at any of the tables. The benches are all packed, even by the people who aren't eating.

During my search, I walk past Henry. He's standing by a tent wall, grinning as he feeds a chunk of bread to the crows adorning his head and shoulders.

It's nice to see him out here with us instead of shutting himself up in his tent, even if I can understand why he does that.

            I have to wait a little, but soon Donnel gets up and leaves, and I claim his spot by setting my bowl on the table there.

I've barely even swung a leg over the bench before a woman somewhere behind me screams.

I'm not sure where to look until I hear the distressed cawing of crows.

Henry, I don't see him.

What I do see is the crowd parting around the spot where he was just standing, a grim silence falling over them.

I push past them all, wedging my way between their bodies to see what's happened.

The crows obstruct my view, flapping up a storm with their glossy black wings and cawing like mad.

It's only with great difficulty that I shoo them away, and while everyone gasps at what they see, I drop to my knees.

Henry is flat on the ground, his whole body shaking and convulsing as red foam pours out of his mouth and nose.

It's not supposed to be that color.

I shove him onto his side and hold him there, yelling for a stretcher.

My heart doesn't stop pounding for the entire minute it takes one to get here.

Henry's stopped shaking by this time, his body now limp.

I check his breathing, I check his pulse, and now I help to carry him away.

My hands are numb.

            In the infirmary tent once again, I say nothing as Lissa hands me Henry's blood-stained shirt and lays him down on a cot.

Wasn't he just okay?

Wasn't it just a moment ago that he was happy and smiling and feeding his crows.

She draws the sheet up to his bare chest.

What changed? Why is this happening to him?

She says something about a clean shirt, and my legs carry me away without me telling them to.

            A few minutes later, I return from the medical supply tent with a clean, but likely oversized shirt.

Relief washes over me when I see that Henry's awake already.

He's propped himself upright and is studying a small object in his hands. 

            "Your shirt had to be washed, so I brought you this one."

            He doesn't acknowledge me, totally engrossed in what he's holding. I think little of it, as seizures can have this effect on people.

            I hold the garment up by its sleeves and it hangs below my waist.

I give a small laugh. "As you can see, it might be a little big..."

            Still no response.

            I look down at his hands and almost drop the shirt when I see the curved blade of a dagger.

"Where did you get that?" My eyes go wide

            "Lissa gave it to me." His gaze is still fixated on it.

            I set the shirt down on his nightstand. "Why?"

            He gives me a calm smile. "Because I asked her to, after I showed her this." He takes a hand off the dagger and pulls down his sheet to reveal the stab wound I noticed earlier.

It's changed.

The flesh beneath his stitches has turned black.

            With a closer look at the dagger, I notice the splash of dried blood on the blade.

That's not one of Henry's daggers. It's the one he was stabbed with.

            My words come out slow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

            Just as he opens his mouth to answer, the entrance flap flies open and Lissa charges in with our other Plegian dark mage close in tow.

"I found her! Henry, I found Tharja, just like you asked." She stops at the foot of his cot, panting.

            Tharja walks around to the side opposite of me. "This had better be good, otherwise-"

She jumps back with a look of terror I've never seen on her. 

She shouts something in Plegian, gripping the nightstand behind her.

All Henry did was hold up the dagger.

            He says something in Plegian as well.

I can't understand him, but there's no mistaking the word "Grima."

            Tharja nods at him, and frowns when he laughs.

            He turns the dagger over in his hand, careful not to touch the blade. "That's what I thought, but I had to make sure."

            I manage to keep my voice calm, gentle, almost whispering as I ask, "Make sure of what?"

            Lissa's forehead is wrinkled with worry, as I've no doubt mine is when Henry looks up at me with a great big smile and says three words that nearly stop my heart.

"I'm gonna die."


	4. Burden

            "Libra? Hey, what's wrong?" Chrom's casual smile fades away when he sees my face.

I thought I was keeping my composure. I wonder what gave it away.

            "Captain, I... I'm afraid I have some bad news." My voice comes out higher than I'd like. I can't help it.

            Chrom turns around on the bench and stands up, causing everyone in the mess tent to go quiet.

"Is it Henry?" He looks genuinely concerned.

Of course he does; he must have watched us carry him out of here.

            "It-"

I feel uncomfortably warm, noticing that everyone's staring at me.

"It is, sire. I regret to say that he's been infected with a poison, a fatal one."

I swallow hard.

"For which there is no cure.

            Chrom drops his head and sighs.

He seems to wish as much as I do that I didn't have to say those words.

I did the same thing when Tharja said them.

            He's silent for a moment.

When he looks up at me again, his expression is solemn. "How did this happen."

            "It was on the battlefield." The hairs on my neck prickle with the memory.

"He was stabbed with a blade fashioned from one of the Fell Dragon's venomous fangs."

            The tent fills with a chorus of whispers.

            "How certain are you of his fate?" Frederick rises to his feet now, assuming his usual position beside his liege.

            I recall Tharja's mortified expression at the very sight of that wretched dagger.

"Certain."

            Chrom shakes his head. "Gods, of all the ways to-" His eyes widen as if with a sudden realization. "Wait, Robin was stabbed too. Does that mean...?"

            Thankfully, it's my turn to shake my head. "I had the same thought, and so I checked both the knife she was stabbed with and her wound before leaving the infirmary tent. Everything looks normal, and since she hasn't had any of Henry's symptoms so far, I think it's safe to say that she's fine."

            He lets out a breath. "Well, that's good at least."

            "And what of the Plegian boy?" Frederick raises an eyebrow. "How long does he have?"

'Plegian boy?' I'm not sure there is a way to interpret that that isn't offensive on some level.

            I think better of the urge to challenge it though, instead folding my arms over my chest. "It's difficult to say. Apparently, the only known cases of this type of poisoning have been in Plegia, along with any medical records. From what Tharja was able to tell us though, it sounds like he could have anywhere from a week to a month left before it-" I can no longer hold eye contact with them, staring instead at a grease stain on the table beside us.

I decide to spare them the unnecessarily gory details that Tharja divulged on what exactly Grima's venom does to one's body.

"...Before he dies."

            All whispering ceases. The mess tent falls deathly quiet.

It's as if everyone is just now realizing that this is really happening, that their comrade is dying.

I can understand their delay. Even I'm still struggling to process it, and I had reason to expect it before anyone.

The whole situation is just so surreal.

It's the kind of thing that's easy to imagine happening, but no one ever believes that it actually could...

            My thoughts are interrupted by Frederick. "So you're saying he has a month at most then."

            It is with a heavy heart that I nod in confirmation.

            The knight turns to our commander now. "Milord, I do not believe there is any reason we couldn't spare a messenger for that long."

            Chrom tilts his head. "Well, no, I suppose not... Frederick, what are you getting at?"

What, indeed?

            "I propose we take the sick mage back to the outpost. He can rest there in peace and quiet while we continue forth with our more arduous mission. We'll leave a messenger there as well to come and inform us when the illness has taken him. That way, we won't have to worry about accommodations for him, nor will he have to suffer the stress of traveling with us."

He strokes his chin now, talking more to himself than anyone. "Now as hard as we're trying to keep the Plegians out of our newly reclaimed outpost, it does seem a bit counterproductive. However, I believe this situation to be a rare exception."

Is he serious?

            Chrom says nothing, looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

He can't really be considering this idea.

He shakes his head. "That hardly sounds like a solution."

Yes, at least one of them has some sense.

            Frederick holds his hands behind his back. "The way I see it Milord, it is the closest thing to a solution for a problem that has none. A sick soldier is no soldier at all. If the boy stays with us, he'll do nothing but slow us down and hinder our progress. In the long run, leaving him behind will be better for everyone."

            Chrom starts to nod.

No, how can he possibly agree with that?

"From a reasonable standpoint, it does make sense..."

'Reasonable?' We're talking about Henry's life!

            I take a step toward the both of them. "Your highness, please. I must ask that you reconsider."

I didn't want to speak out of turn, but they give me no choice.

"Leaving Henry behind would mean condemning him to a lonely, isolated, and exponentially painful death."

I shake my head. "It is a kind of inhumane punishment I would not wish upon my greatest enemies, let alone a close ally."

            The prince crosses his arms.

            I should have watched my tone closer. I almost forgot I was talking to royalty.

I open my mouth to apologize.

            "That is an interesting viewpoint, Libra."

Wait, what?

"I must ask then, if you do not agree with Sir Frederick's idea, then what do you propose we do?"

            I haven't thought of that yet.

            I clear my throat, once again avoiding eye contact.

_Think, Libra!_

"We could take him with us." The suggestion spills out of my mouth before I even have the chance to think it through.

            Frederick narrows his eyes. "Did you not hear what I just said?"

            "I-" I force myself to look up at him. "I heard you, sir, and I'm sorry, but I have to disagree. Having Henry with us during our mission would not be so great a burden that it's worth the alternative of abandoning him to his death. He deserves more than that, everyone does."

            The knight is shaking his head before I even finish talking. "It is just not practical. First of all-"

            "Frederick, please," Chrom interrupts him.

            He looks taken aback. "But Milord-"

            Our captain raises a silencing hand. "Libra's right. No matter how different Henry may be, he's still one of us and we're going to treat him as such. He only has a few weeks left. I don't imagine it would be a terrible inconvenience to keep him in our company for just a little while longer."

            Frederick starts again, "Milord, I really must insist-"

            "I've made up my mind. Henry stays. However-" He raises his hand again. "Someone will have to take responsibility for him, to make sure he doesn't fall too far behind. Someone will also have to see to his potential medical needs. As long as he's with us, he shouldn't be suffering unnecessarily."

He looks around the tent. "Does anyone wish to volunteer?"

            As if on queue, everyone averts their gazes.

I see what I have to do, and I don't even have to think twice about it.

            "I'll do it." The words come out of my mouth clearer and more certain than anything I've said this whole debate.

            Chrom and Frederick stare at me for a moment, everyone does.

Are they really that surprised?

            Our captain breaks the silence by clapping his hands together. "Well, I guess it's settled then."

He spends the next half hour briefing us all on tomorrow's marching route and destination, quite a change from the previous topic.

            We'll be heading for the Kunaar province, a two day trek from here.

There's a break in the border security there that Robin has deemed the most likely place for a revenge strike to follow up our reclaiming of the outpost. Chrom says that according to her calculations, we're almost guaranteed to find a squadron there waiting for us.

Frederick notes that they'll pose a danger to nearby villages, so the sooner we get there the better.

We'll be packing up camp at dawn.

            It's still dark when I get up the next morning, this might be in part because of the thick storm clouds overhead.

I go to check on Henry, but he's not there.

Robin tells me he was gone when she woke up.

Why am I not surprised?

Fortunately, it turns out he's not that hard to find because he's in the first place I look, packing up his tent.

            I walk up behind him. "Good morning."

            He looks over his shoulder with a grin. "Morning! Beautiful weather we're having, isn't it?"

There's a thunder crack somewhere in the distance.

            "...Uh, sure."

I can never tell if he's being serious.

"Henry, what are you doing up so early?"

            He waves a stake at me before dropping it in his open pack. "Taking down my tent, what's it look like?"

            I shake my head. "What I mean is, why are you up in the first place. You should be resting right now. Remember what Tharja said?"

            With a smirk, Henry lowers his tone to match the other mage's with shocking accuracy. "'Exertion makes the venom spread faster.' Or maybe it was 'grow fonder.' Nyaha, just kidding, I know which one it was."

Does he though?

            I do wish he would take this more seriously.

I don't care that he's packing up his tent right now. What bothers me is the fact that he doesn't seem to have given it a second thought, despite Tharja's warnings.

It's not like I want him to start acting depressed or anything, but it would sure make things easier for the both of us if he would at least think to take care of himself.

            "I'm okay with you doing this now, but in the future I'd like you to ask for my help with things like this, or better yet to have me do them for you. Do you understand?"

            He stops in the middle of stuffing his tent sheet into his pack. "No."

I thought I made myself pretty clear.

            I try again. "I don't want you doing things where you could hurt yourself or-"

            "Why?" He turns around, eyes narrowed. "Why do you care?"

This is when it occurs to me; he doesn't know I've been designated as his caretaker.

He was sleeping when I went to tell him last night.

            I sigh. "There was a um, a disagreement last night about your situation."

I figure it's best if he doesn't know the details. "Basically, Chrom decided that you need someone to look after you during- well, during this time."

            He smiles.

A good sign, I hope.

"And that someone is you?"

            I nod.

            "Nyahaha! of all the stupid-"

Not a good sign.

Henry shakes his head, still laughing. "I'm not a fucking child!"

            "No." I reach a hand toward him. "No, of course not. My job isn't to babysit you, Henry. Chrom just thinks it best if you have someone to see to your medical needs and the like. It isn't demeaning in any way."

            "...Of course not," he echoes, turning to pick up the last of his stakes.

             It's clear to me that there's nothing I can say to make him instantly okay with the situation.

He just needs some time to think.

Without another word, I leave him to his packing and go to start mine.

Frederick's annoyed with me for being the last one to finish, even though it isn't by much.

            We eat a light breakfast of dried fruit and rancid-tasting bear jerky. And we're off.

            Last night, Chrom described today's route as 'a little rough, but ultimately the quickest way.'

Rough was such an understatement.

The ground is nowhere near even and seemed to made of rocks, some so big we have to climb over them.

Strenuous barely begins to describe this task. 

Most of the boulders we come across are almost vertical in the front. Cherche's wyvern ends up having to haul our knights horses over to the other side of them, an unnerving sight.

I pause at the top of an especially large boulder to catch my breath, and happen to look over at Henry. He's really struggling.

His whole body shakes as he pulls himself up over the edge of a rock nearby. He winces, the wisps of his breath coming short and fast.

He shouldn't be doing this. I hate to imagine what sort of affect this is having on his condition.

He's supposed to avoid moving around as much as possible, and what is he doing? Moving around as much as possible.

At least we're past these big rocks now. This makes me feel a little better.

            Even though we're on flatter ground, I still see Henry's step falter twice.

I make a point to walk closer to him after this.

            He keeps pulling on the strap of his pack, shifting it around and occasionally switching it over to the other shoulder completely. 

I offer to carry it for him and, not surprisingly, he says no.

I hate to watch him struggle with it, but I don't push the issue. All that's likely to accomplish is to have him be irritated with me and still struggling.

I say nothing more on the subject, wishing he would be just a little more accepting of my help sometimes.

            We're nearing the top of a steep incline when Henry stumbles forward, one hand flying straight to his left side.

"I'm okay!" he insists, waving my hand away as he stands up straight again.

I'm not convinced, but I let him keep walking anyway.

            It isn't even a minute before it happens again.

This time he falls to one knee.

He holds out a hand to stop me from coming any closer. "I'm okay, I'm okay. I just- Gah!" He clutches his side with both hands now, right where his stab wound is.

He's not okay.

            I call after Chrom to stop the march.

Most everyone looks back at me, including Frederick who seems quite irritated.

Chrom on the other hand looks concerned, and actually makes his way back here to see what's wrong.

            "Henry can't keep walking," I explain. "He needs to rest."

            "No, I don't." Henry starts to stand up on shaking legs, but cries out in pain and now falls to both knees.

            Chrom looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, before shifting his gaze up to the stormy sky.

He calls for Frederick.

            I'm not sure why, but this makes me nervous. For some unknown reason, I find that I'm paranoid our commander will do something drastic.

It's a ridiculous thought. Surely he wouldn't have Frederick take him back to the outpost after all... would he?

            It turns out Chrom's plan is much less sinister. He tells the knight to let everyone know we're stopping for an early lunch break.

It's so that Henry can rest for a bit, he says.

I feel guilty for having even entertained any doubt in him.

           Virion says my name behind me.

I turn away from Henry for a second to look at him, but he's not there. And when I turn back, neither is Henry.

I spot him soon enough; he hasn't gone far.

            I go after him. "Henry, wait. Are you feeling better already?"

            He does the same thing he did last night, pausing for a bit before turning around with an exaggerated smile. "I'm fine, thanks." There's a bit of sharpness to his voice. "And before you ask, no. I'm pretty sure I don't need your help to take a piss."

            That's not what I was going to say, but I still feel embarrassed. I should have thought of that before I even approached him.

"I'm sorry," I say before going back to join the others.

Can no interaction between the two of us end on anything but a bad note?

            "You walked away, so I can only assume that you didn't hear me." It's Virion again.

            I turn around.

            "Oh, it's quite all right. I don't blame you in the slightest. Rather I blame myself for being so overwhelmed by your elegance that it quieted the very words on this noble tongue."

            "...What?"

            He gives a small bow with a flourish of his hand. "Dearest Libra, I only meant to say that your beauty is unmatched. And that in this natural light, your perfect face takes on such a lovely glow, it's infatuating."

Oh, not this again. 

I thought I already told this one. I wouldn't think he'd need to hear it twice.

            "Virion."

            He smiles. "Yes?"

            "I'm not a woman."

            His cheeks take on a slight tinge. "Er, yes... I know that."

Wait, that couldn't mean... No, there's no way. This is Virion; he probably talks like this to everyone. 

I don't know what he want's from me, and frankly I don't care. If he hadn't distracted me earlier, that whole misunderstanding with Henry might have been avoided entirely.

            Regardless of my impatience for him, I try to by nice. "Virion, my face isn't... Glowing. If it's red, it's because I'm cold, because these dreaded storm clouds are blocking out all of the sunlight. While that may be natural, I fail to see how it's pertinent. Now if you'll please excuse me..."

I give a polite nod and continue on my way. 

            The nobleman calls after me, and I ignore him.

That was strangely out of character for me. He was just trying to be nice and I completely disregarded him. 

I should apologize, just maybe not right at this moment. 

            We eat a lunch of stale bread and water.

It isn't much, but it's the best we can do in these dire conditions.

            We press on.

Just as before, I stay close to Henry.

He doesn't say anything, but I can tell this annoys him. It's the way he keeps looking back to see if I'm still here, always with a smile but also obvious disappointment at the realization that I am.

Why does he do that?

Why does he even bother pretending to be happy when he's clearly not and seems to want me to know it? Is he physically incapable of pulling any other expression than a smiling one?

I wonder sometimes...

            A few times, I notice that Henry appears to be concealing further episodes of pain. It doesn't look like anything as bad as earlier, probably just small twinges, but with him I can never be sure.

I feel like I should do something, but what can I do?

He obviously doesn't want me to know he's in pain, or he wouldn't bother hiding it. I don't want to upset him by prying, I just wish I knew why he feels the need to keep it to himself.

I say nothing, not even a word, for the rest of today's march.

            When night falls, we don't set up camp and we don't have a fire. We have cold leftovers of the roasted meat from last night, and afterwards everyone tries to find a spot on the ground that isn't too sharp and rocky to lie down on.

It's while doing this that I notice Henry sitting a little ways away from everyone, a distant look in his eyes.

            I proceed with caution, sitting down close to him, but not close enough to invade his personal space. "What are you thinking about?"

I deem it wise to start with friendly conversation rather than jumping straight to the point, which he never seems to respond well to.

            Henry's hugging his knees in front of him, and instead of looking at me, he rests his chin on them and smiles. "Oh, you know. Stuff and things."

He's closing off already? So much for friendly conversation.

            "Um, hey look, about earlier..."

            He sits upright and waves a hand downward. "Pssh, forget it. You caught me at a bad time, it happens."

            I choose my next words carefully. "Actually, while I am still sorry about that, it's not what I was referring to."

            He regards me with a sideways glance, the corners of his mouth dropping just a hair.

            "It was after that. I noticed that you seemed to be experiencing more pain, yet you didn't say anything. Why?"

            He shrugs. "Didn't seem worth mentioning."

If that was the whole truth, then he wouldn't have bothered concealing it from me. There's more to it than that, but I don't push my luck by asking.

            "Well, as far as I'm concerned, it was." I turn my body so I'm completely facing him. "Henry, I want you to tell my these things, even if they seem insignificant to you."

            "Oh, let me guess, because you're supposed to take care of me, right?"

            I don't answer him; I know a rhetorical question when I hear one.

            He looks at me, still smiling, but with a dangerous glare in his eyes. "Tell me, did the thought even occur to you to ask me before you accepted the job, or did you jump at the chance to humiliate me?"

It's clear to me that he misunderstands the delicacy of the situation.

            "I'm sorry, but I don't think-"

            "There you go again." He laughs. "At first I thought it was funny, but now you're really starting to annoy me."

What is he talking about?

"Stop saying those words. You and I both know they don't mean a damn thing."

What words, 'I'm sorry?'

            "Of course they do." I lean forward, placing a hand on the dry soil. "I don't understand why you would think that."

            Henry's expression softens. He looks down. "No, of course you wouldn't. I keep forgetting that you and I, we don't come from the same place."

He sighs. "I guess a little explanation might be necessary then."

He looks up at me again, no longer with suspicion or annoyance, but with his smiling equivalent of a neutral expression. "Back in Plegia, I used to be pretty naive. I took everything people said at face value, never questioning whether they were being honest or if they meant it. I assumed that everyone always told the truth because that's what I did." He shakes his head. "Well in Plegia, we have a popular saying. It translates roughly to, 'Don't expect the dragon not to eat you just because you didn't eat him... I had to learn that one the hard way."

He pauses, staring into the distance as if remembering something.

"There were these boys that used to apologize to me all the time, just like you do. Whenever they would carry a joke to far or break something of mine, they jumped straight to saying they were sorry. It was their default, they did it all the time. I didn't think much of it, figuring they were probably just inconsiderate and didn't think about consequences until it was too late. I honestly thought they meant it. But see the thing is, they never stopped doing those things that they would apologize for. They made the same 'mistakes' over and over again, each time claiming that they didn't mean it, and I was so stupid I believed them."

He shakes his head again, eyes moving back to me. "That is, until one day I found out that they thought it was funny. All along they'd been laughing at me, mocking me behind my back. They had pretended to be my friends, but I was nothing more than a big joke to them..."

His smile widens. "At least I was, until I did something to make them stop laughing, something to make them truly sorry. Oh how they apologized then. It was pathetic the way they groveled and pleaded, it made me mad. They weren't sorry for what they did, only that they got caught. Nyaha, you should have seen their faces. I'll bet you still could, because they'd be frozen that way, you know, if I hadn't let the crows eat their corpses." He laughs. "Good times."

            I think I'm starting to see why Henry hasn't made any friends in this army, but that's beside the point.

He must compare me to those boys whenever I apologize to him. That explains so much.

            "Henry, I-"

            "Save it." He crosses his arms. "You're gonna tell me how you're different from those guys, right? I'm sure in your mind you are, but the reality is you're all the same. Everyone has their own selfish reasons for saying those two words. Just because your reasons may be different from someone else's, doesn't make the words themselves mean anything more."

            It is truly sad to think that anyone could have suffered such cruelty as to lose their belief in real sincerity.

I wish there was a way for me to help Henry understand that not all people are the same in that respect, that there is such a thing as a true apology.

If there is a way, it isn't by telling him so, or doing anything that can be accomplished in one night.

These things take time.

            "I-" I have to stop myself from apologizing. "I regret that you feel that way, Henry. It is my hope that someday you will come to realize that's not always the case."

For once, it's my turn to end a conversation between us. "You- I mean, we should get some rest. Goodnight, Henry."

            He looks uncertain, but he returns my friendly gaze. "...Goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who were disappointed by the lack of bloodshed in this chapter... You're twisted, but I love ya'.  
> Also don't worry, you'll get your fix soon enough ;)


	5. Don't Give Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains depictions of suicidal actions that may be upsetting to some people.

            It's the second day of the march.

Henry seems to be doing well.

The sun's sinking in the still-cloudy sky, and I haven't seen him stumble or falter or so much as wince even once today.

It is possible that he could be concealing his pain from me, but if that's the case it must not be too bad because he's doing a spectacular job. 

It's not just that either; even his mood is better. The hostile undertones of his smile are all but gone, and he's acting more like his usual self.

Maybe I was being overly concerned yesterday.

            We're on a road now, and after two days of climbing over rocks of all shapes and sizes I'll never take one for granted again. It does force us to walk closer together, which I'm not thrilled about, but the smoothness of it alone is enough to make up for this.

I'm not going to say anything, but I do have to wonder if the straightest path really was the shortest in this case, or if we could have made better time a longer, if slightly less trying route.

It's probably best not to think about it too much, considering we've already made it this far.

            Vaike walks up behind me now. I hear the clinking of his collar chains as he draws near.

What is the purpose of those things, I wonder?

"Hey, I thought that guy was supposed to be sick." 

He's looking at Henry, who does seem quite the opposite of sick at the moment.

            The dark mage is happily skipping alongside a flying crow that's matching his stride with its wingbeats.

            I sigh. "He is."

            "Well he could'a fooled Teach." Vaike shrugs.

            He could fool anyone with the way he's acting right now, like he hasn't a care in the world.

I sort of wish he would stop, both because it's giving people the wrong idea about his illness and because it could be making said illness even worse.

            When I say nothing more, Vaike moves on.

            It isn't long before Sully takes his place. She walks beside me in silence for a couple minutes before she finally comes out and speaks her mind. "Didn't you say that the Plegian kid only had a week left to live?"

            I stop myself from rolling my eyes, instead looking into hers. "Minimum. He has a week at minimum."

            The redhead shrugs. "My bad. It's just that he's so energetic I was gonna say that doesn't look like it'll be the case."

No, it doesn't.

            It's funny, because two nights ago I doubted Tharja when she said a week at the least, wondering how Henry could possibly make it that long at the rate he was declining then.

Well he's doing better now, which I'm happy about, it just means that he might not need my help as much as I thought.

Is it bad of me to feel a little happy about this also?

It's not that I'm unwilling to help him, it's just that he hasn't exactly made it easy for me so far. The way he rejects my every attempt at aidance, it's almost like he doesn't care that he's dying.

            It isn't long before the sun disappears, and any trace of it's remaining light is obscured by the storm clouds that have finally decided to make their wet descent upon us.

Fortunately, we make it to a town not long after the rain starts, passing under a dripping stone arch with a sign that reads 'Welcome to Katavasi.'

Townspeople dash across the muddy streets, pulling up their hoods or finding something else to cover their heads with as they seek shelter from the now pouring rain.

I hear no complaints from my comrades about not stopping at any shops as we head straight for the nearest inn.

We're approaching the shining wet door of it when Henry suddenly breaks away from us.

I almost keep walking. After all, he goes off on his own all the time; it isn't so unusual.

Some nagging thought in the back of my mind makes me stop though, and it's a good thing I do.

Henry sways in his step and almost falls, catching himself on a nearby lantern post.

I stay behind as everyone else files into the warm, dry building.

One hand still on the post, he leans forward and begins to vomit.

I'm hopeful that it isn't what it looked like at first glance, but when another mouthful splatters onto the ground, I sigh in grief at the realization that it isn't just vomit.

In the soft flickering glow of the lantern above his head, there's not mistaking it.

It's blood.

            I walk up to him, careful to avoid stepping in the red puddle that's running down the street with the rain water.

I place a hand on his shoulder.

            He meets my concerned look with a big, bloody smile. "I bet that's way more than a pint."

Is he serious?

No, that's just the problem. He's never serious, even when he really should be.

            I don't respond, I just take him inside.

That is I try to, but Henry shakes off my hand and staggers to the door himself, stubbornly refusing my help all the way.

What exactly is he trying to prove?

            Inside, Chrom stands with both hands on the check-in counter, his blue eyes wide in apparent surprise. "You mean they're here right now?"

            The receptionist in front of him nods, sweat beading on his forehead. "Y-yes, your highness- Well, not quite. You see they're in Anavasi right now. That's the neighboring town to this one, j-just a little ways up the road." He points in the direction of the wall behind him, presumably north. "It seems they've been raiding the place since early this afternoon."

            Chrom pounds a fist on the counter, causing the shorter man to jump. "Damn! If only we could've gotten here sooner." He shakes his head and turns to the knight standing beside him. "Frederick,"

            "Already on it, Milord." Frederick addresses the crowd of Shepherds, which now includes Henry and me. "It looks like the Plegians have one on us, but not for long. Shepherds, prepare for battle. We have no-"

            The knight's words are cut off by a sharp cry of pain as Henry doubles over, clutching his side.

            He sighs. "Oh what is it now?"

            People in the lobby stare as Henry falls to his knees. He's shaking all over, his knuckles turning white from holding his side so hard.

I can't do what I need to to help him here; there are too many people. 

            It seems bad after what Frederick just said, but in this situation I really have no choice. "Captain, permission to take Henry up to a room."

            Chrom looks at him for a second, and now at me with a nod. "Permission granted." He hands something to Frederick.

            The knight brings me a little silver skeleton key with the number 213 engraved in the base. "Be sure to hurry back down here as soon as you're finished."

            I nod. "Of course. Thank you, sir."

            Getting Henry up the stairs is no easy task, but I manage it.

He has an arm slung over my shoulder, his other hand still pressed against his side as we walk down the dimly lit hallway. At least I walk. Henry hobbles, wincing with every tiny step.

It's hard to believe now that those shuffling feet of his were skipping just a couple hours ago.

When he gets worse, he gets worse fast.

            Room 213 has two beds, the nearest of which Henry falls back on gratefully after I help him to it.

His hand gravitates to his side again, and now that we're in the privacy of an inn room I have to ask.

            "Henry, why don't you let me take a look at that?"

            He looks at me with bloodshot eyes. He starts to shake his head but stops short, wincing.

His gaze shifts down to where his hand rests on his side, contemplating. Now he looks back up at me and swallows. "Do you think it'll help?"

            "It might." I give a nod. "It certainly can't hurt."

            Slowly, Henry slides his fingers down underneath the edge of his waist wrap and pulls up his shirt to reveal a disturbing sight indeed.

The whole area of his lower left side is dark purple.

It's worst around his stab wound, where the blackness has spread beyond the outside edge of his stitches. Now it's stretching out into his blood vessels, in a way that reminds me of cracked glass. 

This can't be a good sign.

            There's a rapid knock at the door that makes me jump.

Before I can answer, it flies open and Ricken hurries in, straightening his oversize hat and panting. "Sir Frederick sent me to come and get you. We're leaving right-" He pauses, eyes growing wide at the sight of Henry's side, which I haven't had the chance to cover yet.

Even after I pull the dark mage's shirt down, Ricken's face is still chalk-pale. "Y-you know what? Forget I said anything. Henry clearly needs you more than we do right now..."

            I stand up straight. "Wait, Ricken-"

But he's already gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

            Henry calls my attention back to him with a sudden grunt of pain.

I pull up his shirt again to get a better look at his wound. It's no better the second time.

The purple area is hard to the touch; it's just as I feared.

He's bleeding internally.

            I've dealt with many injuries in my life, but I am no surgeon.

Unfortunately, the best I can do for Henry is to prop up his legs and cover him over with a blanket.

I ask the receptionist downstairs, and he tells me their local doctor is in the northern town, helping those injured in the raid.

That's where I should be right now.

I wish Ricken hadn't left so fast. It only took me a minute to do all that I could and then I could've gone with them...

I still could.

The town isn't that far away. Better I show up late than never. Besides, I doubt Henry will need me that badly.

I go back up to the room to get my things.

            I sling my medical bag over my shoulder, and it's while turning to look for my axe that I realize Henry isn't how I left him.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at me.

            "Do you need something?" I ask.

            He continues to stare at me, his expression uncharacteristically blank. "Lady,"

'Lady?' Henry knows I'm a man. He called me 'him' just earlier today. So then why...?

            I walk up to him. "Henry..." If he's forgetting something as basic as my gender, that's cause for concern.

            "Lady," he repeats with a smile. "Oh how I've missed your sweet voice."

He reaches a hand up towards my face.

            I resist the overwhelming urge to pull back, allowing him to place his hot palm on my jaw.

His hand is a little too hot. It shouldn't be so warm unless...

I feel his forehead and sure enough, he's burning up.

But that doesn't make sense. If anything, internal bleeding should lower one's body temperature, not heighten it.

            "Don't worry, it's okay." Henry lowers his hand, his eyes brimming with tears. "I'm gonna come find you, I promise. I'll save you this time, I-" His voice cracks, lowering to a whisper. "I won't let them kill you again."

He's delusional.

            I touch his shoulder. "Henry, can you hear me?"

            He covers his mouth and nods, the tears falling from his eyes. "Yes. Oh gods, yes."

He stands up on shaking legs.

I see it coming, and I have to stop myself flinching as he throws his arms around me. 

"You don't know how I've longed for this, to see you again after all this time." I feel the wetness of Henry's tears on my shoulder.

Who does he think I am?

"Lady, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't try to find you sooner." He lets out a small sob. "I had to find the people who did this to you first, I had to. And I did. I hunted them down one by one and now I've finally killed them all." He pulls away from me and gives a weak, teary smile. 

"...So now I'm finally ready."

He's beginning to scare me.

            "Ready for what?"

            Henry caresses my face, smiling, but still crying.

Now he shoves my backwards so hard I almost fall.

I barely catch myself in my surprise, looking up just in time to see him pull something shiny out of his pack on the nightstand. 

It's one of his daggers.

            "Henry, no." I start toward him again.

            He stops me dead in my tracks when he holds up a glowing violet hand. "Please, don't try to stop me."

He's unpredictable right now. If I'm not careful, we could both end up dead.

"You did it once before, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for that, but this time is different. I had my whole life ahead of me then, but now I- Ngh." Henry winces and presses his wrist against his side, still holding the dagger.

I would make my move now, except his other hand is still poised to strike me.

            It's all I can do to try and reason with him. "Think about what you're doing, please. There is no going back from this."

            "I know." Besides his tears, Henry is the picture of calm. "You said the same thing last time, but don't you see? I'm doing this for you, for both of us. We- Ah." He holds his side again, this time hunching forward from the pain.

Still he gives me no opportunity to get close enough.

"We'll be together again... j-just you and me."

After a moment, he stands up straight again and smiles, bringing the dagger up to his chest.

            "Don't do this, Henry." I reach out a hand in a final, desperate attempt at stopping him. "I know things are looking bad right now. You're tired and you're hurting, but this is not a solution. You have to believe that there's still hope. There's always hope. Things can still get better. Even if you don't have much longer, you can at least give yourself a chance for closure."

I don't know if that's the right thing to say, but I have to say something. I think the guilt just might eat me alive if I don't find a way to stop him and fast.

            Henry lowers the dagger a little. "You're right, I'm being stupid."

Could that really have worked?

He shakes his head. "The image of your death has haunted me for years. I'm sorry, I should've known you wouldn't want to watch mine."

            "What? No, Henry-"

            But he's already whispering the incantation.

He snaps his fingers, and in this fraction of a moment, I do the only thing my desperate mind can think to do.

I lunge at him, just as a tiny bolt of energy shoots out of his finger.

It misses me by a hair.

The moment I reach Henry though, he collapses.

My heart skips a beat in the second before I see the dagger lying on the floor, still clean.

But if he didn't... Then what-?

He's still breathing.

            Relieved, if a little confused, I lift him back up onto the bed. 

I take his dagger, along with a second one I find in his pack, and I put them with my things for the time being.

My hands are shaking.

I'm still trying to figure out exactly what happened, and it isn't until a full minute later that I notice there's a mirror on the wall behind where I'd been standing.

It all makes sense now.

Henry didn't want me to watch, so he was going to put me to sleep. The mirror must have reflected his spell back on him when I got out of the way.

If that isn't a sign of divine intervention, I don't know what is. I'm just thankful that it happened the way it did. Otherwise, I don't know if I would've been able to stop him in time...

One thing is for sure though; I can't leave him alone right now.

I'll just have to pray that my absence from the battlefield isn't hurting my comrades too badly.

            I sit in a chair in the corner and watch Henry sleep.

He looks so peaceful now, but I have no way to know what sort of thoughts are going on in his subconscious mind.

I hope they're good ones.

I'd like to think that what he tried to do, what he almost did, was because of his confused mental state.

But then I'd be lying to myself.

Henry may have been delusional, but his emotions were real. And the person he thought I was? Well she was real to him at least.

I had no idea he was capable of something like that. He did a phenomenal job of hiding it, which is probably a good thing since it would make him unfit to serve in any army. And that's the very reason I can't tell anyone about this. I just wish I would've known sooner. 

I feel bad that I ever second-guessed Henry's need for my help. He wasn't rejecting it out of stubbornness, he just didn't want me to get too close, or to interfere.

That actually explains a lot about him.

            I don't know what time it is when the click of the door opening jerks me awake.

I look first to Henry, relieved that he's still there. But if it wasn't him, then that must mean...

Princess Lissa bursts in with Vaike, who's clutching a blood-dripping shoulder.

            I'm on my feet in an instant, approaching the two of them as she sits him down on the other chair.

"What happened?"

            Vaike winces as he moves his hand, saying through clenched teeth, "See for yourself."

His shoulder's been sliced wide open.

            "It's just too deep for a healing staff," Lissa explains. "I'm sorry, but I have to go help with the others. Do you think you could...?"

            I nod. "Of course."

            The princess leaves in a hurry.

            I get to work cleaning Vaike up.

"Did everyone make it back?" I soak a cloth in disinfectant.

I almost don't ask this, knowing how guilty I'll feel if the answer is no.

            "Yeah, barely. We- Ow, fuck that stings!"

            "Sorry." I ease up the pressure on the cloth. 

Thank gods he said yes.

            He continues, "We sure could'a used another healer out there, though. Things weren't going too bad at first, but then those bastards' buddies showed up and everything just fell to shit."

            The door opens again, and Lissa comes in carrying a stretcher with Maribelle's help.

Ricken's on it, unconscious and with a bandaged head.

I stop in the middle of capping the iodine bottle, and watch as they take him to the free bed.

            Vaike nods in his direction. "You know, that could've been totally avoided if we'd just had one more guy with us."

            Stahl enters the room with a bundle of folded cots.

They fill up about as fast as he can set them up.

He ends up having to go and get more.

            I'm sterilizing a curved needle when Vaike looks around the room, shaking his head. "I sure hope it was actually worth your time."

            I shouldn't have to ask this, but that sounded dangerously like an accusation. "What are you implying?"

            He gives a one-shoulder shrug. "Nothing. It's just that it was preeetty convenient for the Plegian to get sicker when he did, right after Chrom decided to go into battle.

Boy, if Teach had a supposed illness and wanted to get outta something..."

            That does it. I wasn't going to say anything, but he needs to understand this. "Henry is sick."

            He raises an eyebrow. "Hm?"

            "His illness is not 'supposed.' It's real and it's grueling and painful."

A few people are looking at me, but I don't care. Maybe some of them need to hear this too.

"The reason he got worse so fast had nothing to do with the battle; it was because he was bleeding internally. I know you're not exactly an expert in medicine, Vaike, so I'll tell you that that is excruciatingly painful. The only sort of relief Henry could get from his suffering is when he was able to endure it long enough to fall asleep. So stop looking at him like he's just taking up valuable bed space, and don't you dare imply that he's faking this because you can't even imagine what he's going through."

The room goes quiet.

I don't mention how it is that Henry did fall asleep, and I never will.

            Vaike holds his hands up in front of him, eyebrows raised. "Whoa, chill out man. Teach was only makin' a speculation, that's all."

That's all.

            I say no more on the subject. I've made my point, whether it got through to him or not.

I just sigh as I pull the suture thread through the needle. "I won't lie to you, Vaike. This is going to hurt like hell."


	6. It's all Downhill from Here.

            "Wake up, everybody up!"

I don't know who's shouting, it's too dark to see anything.

There are at least five other men in this room besides me, and it really could be any-

"Risen are attacking the village!"

No, not just anyone. I know that voice.

            Looking around I see only blackness until I turn to the doorway behind me.

            There's an orange glow cast by the lantern in Sir Frederick's hand, illuminating the look of urgency on his face.

"We have to move now, all able hands on deck."

            The sound of shuffling feet on the floor around me makes me scramble to mine. My bedroll is in the middle of the room and I've already been stepped on once.

Risen, why Risen?

I don't even have to think to come up with an answer for that. For the monsters to appear here shortly after we drove away the very people known to summon them?

Well it sure isn't a likely coincidence.

            I'm not sure I've ever seen an army gear up so fast; we're out the door of the inn within just a couple minutes. This might have to do with the fact that at least half of the Shepherds seem to have gone to bed with most of their armor still on. 

Frederick leads us straight to the town square, where we're greeted by a horrific sight.

The Risen aren't just attacking the village, they're destroying it and everyone in it. 

All around us buildings are burning to ashes on the ground.

Over the roaring flames, I hear the screams of people and Risen alike. The most notable difference between these is that the Risens' screams sound like hoarse victory cries, and the peoples' keep getting cut short in a grim silence.

As we run past a few bodies, I'm filled with a deep sense of regret. If we'd only gotten word of this just a moment sooner, or if none of the Plegians had been able to escape from last night's battle...

I hate to think how many of these deaths might have been prevented.

I'm running near the back of the group, and stop dead in my tracks when something drips onto my shoulder, something red.

Pulling out my axe, I take a step back and look up.

I just as soon wish I hadn't.

A man's face stares at me upside down, frozen with wide eyes and an open, bloody mouth that drips into a puddle at my feet. 

He's been impaled through the back by the sharp, broken tip of a lantern post.

What they say about the Risen is true, they have no souls.

            They certainly fight like they don't. It isn't far into the battle when I slice one's head clean off and it just keeps on fighting blindly. Even when I cut off it's legs, the thing claws its way across the muddy ground, dragging its bloody, headless torso toward me.

It's one of those that don't vaporize when they can no longer fight, the kind that are so much harder to kill. No, not kill, only stop from moving because these fell creatures can't actually die.

The battle in itself isn't that difficult. It just takes an exhaustingly long time to incapacitate all of the soulless monsters, especially the ones that don't vaporize.

Robin devises a strategy to minimize further civilian casualties, and it works. I thank the gods she recovered from her injury so fast, otherwise a lot of innocent people could be dying right now. 

The only problem with her plan is that it makes the already tedious battle take twice as long. We have to run back and forth across the square nonstop, and I end up going through two rescue staffs.

By the time the last Risen falls, the sun's already visible and I'm about ready to collapse.

            Miraculously, I manage to stay on my feet the whole way back to the inn. 

Chrom already seems to be planning out our next course of action as we walk through the door, but I don't ask about it. I'm sure whatever it is, I'll find out soon enough.

When I'm relieved of duty, I go to the check-in counter and ask the receptionist again about this town's doctor. He informs me that the man was killed in battle yesterday.

Now I feel even worse about not being there.

With a heavy heart, I go up to room 213, our makeshift infirmary.

I'm happy to see that nearly all of the cots are empty. I know at least a few of those injured last night joined us this in this morning's battle, but I didn't see the others. I suppose they could've been in down in the lobby and I just missed them.

Well wherever they are, they won't be needing these cots anymore, so I might as well pack them up.

            I'm making sure to be extra quiet, folding up the cot next to a sleeping Panne, when someone stirs behind me.

I look back to see Henry curling up tight with both hands pressed to his side and his face contorted in pain.

I wonder if he's sleeping, that is until his eyes snap open and he takes a long, sharp breath.

I set the cot down and approach his bedside.

His eyes wander up to my face and now close again, tight. He whispers something I can't understand; it kind of sounds like Plegian. Now he relaxes a little and rolls onto his back, his breathing slow and even.

Maybe he's not awake after all, at least not fully.

            "...if it's bad?" I hear him whisper.

I didn't catch the first part.

            "What was that?"

            His eyes open again just a sliver. "Will you tell me?"

            "I..." I have no idea what he's talking about, so how am I supposed to answer?

            Henry doesn't give me time to before he pulls up the left side of his shirt and shows me his stab wound.

It's bad.

It's gotten worse just since last night, and I'm not sure I have the heart to tell him.

The purple area is much darker, and it looks like it may have spread some but I can't tell for sure. One thing I am sure has spread is the blackness in his blood vessels and it looks terrible, like a big black web crawling along beneath his skin.

I'm trying to think of a way to tell Henry the state of things without scaring him, but also without flat out lying. And this is when his hand falls limp at his side and his face relaxes.

He's asleep again.

I pull his shirt back down before anyone else can see it.

He does have a knack for making me worry, and he doesn't even try, at least I hope he doesn't.

            By the time I finish packing up in here, everyone's awake except for Henry and they've all left.

Stahl shows up just in time to help me carry everything downstairs. Even though I'm sure that's not what he came up for, he doesn't object to lending a hand.

            In the lobby once again, Lissa jogs up to me, pigtails bouncing. "Hey Libra, did you hear?"

            "Hear what?"

            She's smiling, so it's likely not something bad.

"We're going to Ylisstol!" She giggles in excitement.

            "Ylisstol?"

            The princess places her hands on her hips. "Yes, Ylisstol. Don't you listen? Big brother decided we need to hold a council there about Plegians and Risen and whatnot, but the point is we're going!" Her gaze grows distant and dreamy. "I can see it now. We'll get to stay in a palace again, with no more bugs or bear meat or peeing outside..." She sighs. "Oh, I can hardly wait!"

With that, she runs off to talk to Maribelle. 

            So we're going to the capitol. I'm not sure what to make of that.

Frederick says it's to be a three day journey, the last day of which will be by carriage ride. I only hope that Henry will be okay traveling that long in his current condition.

It's supposed to be mostly on roads, which makes it better but still not great.

I guess only time will tell.

At least Henry's awake when I go back up to the infirmary room for my medical bag. He smiles and tells me I look like hell.

I'm just glad to see that he doesn't, not with his shirt pulled down anyway.

He seems to be moving around okay when we go to depart. He doesn't complain about any pain, but I can see it in his eyes that he's still suffering.

It'll only be a few more days, I tell myself. Then I can take him to a real doctor.

I kind of wish we could spend even just one night in a village on the way there, but I'm told we won't even be passing through any. It's probably for the best that we get to the capitol as quickly as possible, but it would sure be nice if we could find a doctor for Henry to see in the meantime.

I guess as long as he's still on his feet I won't be overly concerned.

I just thank the gods he's able to walk in the first place.

            As promised, the first leg of the trip is on a nice smooth road.

The weather isn't actually half bad, and would make for a nice peaceful walk if not for the comments I keep hearing, little exchanges of opinions about Henry and about me.

Most of those participating don't even bother keeping their voices down; it's almost like they want us to hear what they're saying.

            Donnel does for sure, as he has the nerve to approach me with his two coins worth.

"I reckon it's awful strange for that Plegian fellow to be gettin' better an' worse an' then better again whene'er it suits him, doncha think?"

He's talking way too loud. There's no way Henry didn't hear that.

I have to keep my cool. Donnel's only trying to fit in with the other Shepherds, and I'm sure he doesn't mean any harm.

            I force a smile. "You know what? You're right, that is suspicious. Almost as much as the time your hay fever kept you from training for a whole month, yet didn't stop you from picnicking in the very fields that caused it."

            Donnel's ears go red. "I- B-but, that was different!"

            "Yes, it was." I'm glad to see that at least a few Shepherds are listening to hear me say this. "The difference is you were faking, Henry isn't."

            The farm boy leaves at that, and doesn't talk to me for the rest of the day.

            When night falls, we camp without tents again, and the next morning we're wishing we hadn't

It's raining, not a hard rain granted, but still just as wet and freezing cold. If nothing else it gets us moving fast, out of the woods and back onto the road.

            I fear I may have jinxed Henry yesterday, not in the literal sense, but by praising the gods for how well he was doing.

Only a little bit into the march, the dark mage stops short and lets out a grunt of pain.

He collapses on the spot.

He doesn't insist he's okay, he doesn't say anything. And when I try to help him he doesn't push me away.

These facts alone concern me more than him falling in the first place.

When I try to get him to stand up straight, he just about screams, insistently bending over.

I look up to call after Chrom, only to see that the Prince has already made his way back here.

            He doesn't even ask what's going on, he just looks at Henry for a long time and now shakes his head. "This won't do at all."

            "My apologies, sire." I place a hand on Henry's hunched shoulder. "If Henry could just have a moment to gather his bearings, I'm sure he'll be fine."

Who am I trying to fool here?

            Chrom crosses his arms. "He looks like he needs more than a moment, besides we have to keep moving." He beckons his knight over. "Frederick, lend Henry your horse."

            He looks stunned. "M-Milord?"

            "You heard me. He's in too much pain to walk, besides you're not using her right now anyway."

            "I-" the knight starts.

            "Do you have a better suggestion?" Chrom faces him with a raised eyebrow.

            Frederick opens his mouth and closes it again with a sigh. "Well, no... I suppose not."

With a scowl, he leads his horse closer.

            It's a challenge, but I manage to help Henry mount her.

By the way he grips her neck armor instead of the reins, and lets his feet dangle in front of the stirrups, I have to wonder if he's ever actually ridden a horse before.

He leans forward before he even settles in the saddle, bracing himself against her neck like it pains him to sit upright.

It probably does.

I picture that horrible black web, stretching and throbbing beneath his blood-bruised skin. I can't imagine the feeling is pleasant.

Henry makes no effort to get the horse to move, but it doesn't matter because when Frederick walks away, his steed obediently follows.

I stay close behind them as we continue our march.

            It isn't long before Gregor of all people falls into stride next to me.

The only time the two of us have ever talked was when he was drunk and tried to get me to go to his tent with him.

I'm pretty sure he still thinks I'm a woman to this day.

He makes a complaint about his tired, wet feet like he expects me to do something about it.

            "Why is it Plegian boy gets to ride on horse while Gregor forced to walk, hm?"

Apparently he missed the part where Henry was literally crippled by his pain.

            I take a deep breath, determined to retain my patience. "Because he's hurting so badly he can't even stand upright."

            The mercenary chuckles, a deep, throaty noise that makes the hairs on my neck prickle. "How convenient for him, eh?"

            I don't like what he's insinuating, but I like even less the way he's looking down at me.

Gregor is among the only few Shepherds who are taller than me, not a lot taller granted, but still noticeably so. That combined with his broad, muscular frame and the natural scowl his face assumes can be quite intimidating.

My every survival instinct tells me to bite my tongue, and so I do, cursing myself for letting Henry down like this.

            With the passing hours, the rain only grows heavier. It's falling in sheets now, and with the sky darkened both by the clouds and trees overhead, it's hard to see more than an arm's length in front of me. 

This might be why I don't notice Henry starting to lean sideways in the saddle until it's too late.

He slides off of Frederick's horse and falls limp on the muddy road.

            "Henry!" I hear myself shout as I run to him.

Most of my comrades stop to see what's happened.

I turn Henry onto his back and examine his head. I don't see any blood, but he's not conscious either.

Gods, why couldn't I have seen this coming?

I'm reaching to open one of his eyes and check his pupil response when he opens them both himself and stares at me looking confused.

            "Are you okay?" My voice is shaking.

            He blinks slowly and gives a weak smile that quickly turns to a grimace.

            "Say something, please."

           He blinks again, and covers his mouth and nose with one hand.

He moves to sit up, so I put a hand on his back for support.

At first I think he's feeling sick, but now he removes his hand from his face to reveal that it's slick with blood.

His face is smeared with it as well.

            Staring at his hand, Henry sniffs. "I think my nose is bleeding."

Another smile. "Mm... blood."

            Wet soil squishes beneath armored boots as Frederick approaches us. "What is the meaning of this?"

Has it taken him this long to notice that the horse he's leading is missing her rider?

            "Henry fell, but I think he's going to be okay."

I hope he is anyway.

The nosebleed concerns me, but I don't see any major injuries. And right now that's all I have time to check for.

            Henry sniffs again and licks some of the blood off his lips.

            The knight raises an eyebrow. "Fell?"

            "He lost consciousness while riding."

It's my best guess.

            Frederick says nothing, and sensing his impatience, I grab hold of Henry's elbow and prompt him to stand.

This doesn't work so well. I basically have to hold him upright and he's shaking all over, but he doesn't protest against my help.

There's something definitely off about him, but in this situation I can do little more than pray the issue resolves itself, or at least holds out until tomorrow night.

            Frederick crosses his arms like he's waiting for something.

            I'm not sure what though, so I just say, "It won't happen again."

            "Be sure that it doesn't." He gives a stern nod and walks away.

            Henry can barely even stand right now, let alone walk. I have no choice but to put him back on Frederick's horse. This time though, I take the reins and lead her myself, standing beside her so that I can better keep an eye on him.

Thankfully, he manages to stay conscious for the rest of today's march.

The next morning however, is a different story.

            I don't see Henry when everyone else gets up, at least not at first.

I find him sitting behind a big oak tree, the bark of which is still moist from yesterday's rain.

He's leaning against it, eyes closed and knees hugged tight to his chest.

He moves his head from side to side and whispers the same thing in Plegian over and over again. 

The sight reminds me of someone having a nightmare, only Henry's awake.

At least he seems to be...

            "Henry,"

I get no response.

"It's time to go."

...

I touch his shoulder ever so lightly.

            His head snaps up so fast it makes me jump.

He opens his horribly bloodshot eyes and flashes me a toothy grin that sends a shiver down my spine.

There's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but it's freezing out.

That can only mean one thing...

Pressing the backs of my fingers to his cheek, it feels like he could burn me.

            "What's the hold up?" Chrom's voice says behind me.

            I turn around. 

He stands with one hand on Falchion's hilt at his hip.

Behind him, the Shepherds are gravitating toward the road, a few of them looking our way over their shoulders.

            "He's running a fever, your highness. I fear it may be affecting his level of consciousness."

            Our commander sighs. He doesn't say it, but I can see the glare of annoyance in his eyes. He's disappointed in me for not doing the job I promised to; I'm letting Henry slow us down, and not for the first time.

"Can fevers do that?"

            I nod. "I'm afraid so."

            We both look at Henry in unison.

He's started to whisper to himself again, as if forgetting we're even here.

He's making me worry.

            Chrom shakes his head. "Can you get him on a horse?"

            I glance at Henry again. In his current state, it's doubtful. "I can try..."

            Frederick ends up having to help me, but between the two of us we manage to get him up there.

I'm so distracted listening to Frederick complain about Henry hurting his shoulder, that I almost don't notice the mage starting to slide in the saddle.

I'm lucky to be on the right side to stop him from falling.

            My heart rate hasn't even started to slow back down before Frederick interjects his opinion. "If the boy can't even ride with us, that renders our options quite limited."

            I say nothing, still reaching over my head to hold Henry in place as I wrack my mind for another solution.

            He continues, "We may have no choice but to leave him behind..."

            "No," I say before really thinking it through.

            He crosses his arms. "And I suppose you have a better idea?"

            I don't, but when I look at him to say so it hits me. "As a matter of fact..."

            A minute later, we're off on our way.

I'm sitting in the saddle behind Henry, reaching around him to hold onto the reins. With an arm on either side, there's no way he can fall off now.

It's not exactly comfortable, but it shouldn't be for long either.

It feels like a lot longer than I'm sure it probably is.

            I don't know what time it is when we start to see the outskirts of a village on the horizon. All I know is my hips are painfully numb, if such a thing is possible, all the way down the backs of my thighs.

That, and Henry isn't doing well.

I'm not sure if he sleeping or what, but he's leaning forward so far he's practically laying on the back of this horse's neck. Actually the only cause for doubt that he's sleeping is the fact that his breathing has grown shallow and uneven.

            "Well Shepherds, this is the spot." Chrom halts the march at a signpost marking the entrance to the town. "This is where the carriages will meet us. You can all rest easy now; the walking part is over with."

            A few people sigh. I hear someone say "Finally," and someone else plops down on the ground.

I hop down from Frederick's horse on the right side and my knees threaten to buckle. I didn't realize how sore I am from the saddle until getting off of it. It's not meant to be sat on that way for that long.

I try to help Henry down, but he won't move.

He just lies there.

I'd be seriously worried if I couldn't see him breathing. As it is, I just have a growing concern.

            "Henry, you have to get down now. Can you hear me?"

I walk around to his other side and wave a hand in front of his face. "Come on, wake up. Please Henry- Oh gods."

I feel a few stares on me as I back away from him, covering my mouth.

            He's not dead, but soon he very well could be.

 The whole left side of his shirt is soaked through with blood.


	7. Clarity

            Rumbling wheels drown out the thudding of hooves as the carriages turn onto a gravel road. The seats bump up and down even more now, making the task of redoing Henry's stitches exponentially difficult.

The mage is lying on his back on the seat across from me, shirtless and on top of one of the towels the coachmen had brought for their horses.

I've managed to stop the bleeding now. At first I wasn't sure if I should, holding out on the hope that it was coming from where it's been trapped beneath his skin.

It turns out this isn't the case. If anything, his internal bleeding has spread even more.

Gods only know where that fresh blood was coming from.

            As I finish tying off Henry's last stitch, he makes a high-pitched, sort of breathy whine. I look up at his face to see that the veins in his neck are bulging and his lips are tinged blue.

Instinctually, I turn him on his side and hold him there until he coughs.

Blood sprays onto the floor of the carriage.

It's a good thing I asked the coachman for a spare towel. I grab it now and hold it to Henry's face as he coughs again and again, faster and harder.

He's awake now, trying to push himself upright with a trembling arm and grasping feebly at the towel. It's folded several times over, and still I see red starting to seep through to the outside.

I'm thinking about calling to pull over when Henry's coughing slows to a stop. He swallows twice and falls back down on the seat, eyes already closed. 

I wipe the corner of his mouth with a clean part of the towel before I wrap it up to contain the blood on the inside and set it on the floor.

It's going to be a long ride to the capitol, and at the rate Henry's worsening already I can only pray he makes it there alive.

            I'm not sure how long it's been, probably only hours but it feels like days.

It's still not dark out. I can't tell how far from it either because the sun isn't visible through either window. The coachmen said we wouldn't be arriving until after dark, so I hope it's at least getting close.

Henry's no longer sleeping, but be gambling not a sin I'd bet he wishes he was.

I fear he may have spooked the carriage horses once or twice with his cries of pain. He's been concerningly quiet for the most part, but the occasional noise that does escape his lips is sharp, loud, and brimming with agony.

I try asking him what's wrong more than once, but it's like he can't even hear me. He just assumes a peculiar expression that looks very much like a smile. I spend the longest time trying to figure out how he could possibly be smiling through all his suffering and now looking closer at his eyes I notice something's off. They don't shine with the same glee that his mouth expresses, but rather with unmistakable misery. 

I take a particular interest in the way his brow creases above them almost like...

Like a grimace.

Could that be it? Could this pain-laced smile be Henry's equivalent of a grimace? 

I've seen him pull the normal version of it before, or maybe I just think I have. It did seem more then like Henry was just expressing discomfort, but this, this is true pain.

            Henry cries out again, his back arching up off the seat this time as he clutches his side. 

His eyes glisten with tears.

That does it. I can't watch him suffer like this any longer.

I open my bag to look for a sleeping tonic, but end up grabbing the towel off the floor instead when Henry starts to cough again.

Both the towel and my hands are dripping with blood by the time he's finished.

If he was asleep, that could've been devastating. He almost definitely would've choked on all that blood and suffocated.

Despite his pain, Henry has to stay awake for now.

            I'm confused at first when the carriage slows to a stop, seeing as how we're nowhere near our destination.

My confusion is replaced with relief however, when I hear the other carriages' doors opening and realize we're stopping for a break.

I open our own door with my elbow, as I'm still holding the blood-soaked towel.

            "I'll be right back," I assure Henry before stepping out onto the grass.

            I'm standing on a gentle slope, at the bottom of which is a small, sparkling creek that the rest of the Shepherds are gravitating towards.

Blessed be we for this.

I make my way down there, walking along the grassy bank until I'm a good ways downstream of everyone.

A few of my comrades stop what they're doing and stare as they notice the bloody towel in my hands, even more when I submerge it in the cold water and begin rinsing it out.

Normally all this attention would make me uncomfortable, but I don't mind it so much at the moment. After witnessing some of their attitudes toward Henry the past few days, I think at least a few of them could stand to see something like this.

            I wring out the towel enough that it can sit on the carriage floor again without leaving much of a wet spot. It's still tinged red, but clean enough it could be used again. I only hope it won't have to be.

            The sun is setting finally, dimming the light in here to a reddish glow.

Henry's been slipping in and out of consciousness, quiet save for a few grunts of pain and some nonsensical murmurs which concern me more than his silence.

He stirs now from a restless sleep, looking up at me with half-closed eyes.

            He gives a slight smile, no, a grimace and touches his throat. "Respirar... non p-p-"

            I don't know what he's saying, but I understand him perfectly. 

Just the way that he gasps in between whispered words is enough to tell me he can't breathe.

I help him sit upright, and end up having to use the towel again after all.

Henry coughs so hard it makes the carriage bounce, and so long that he starts to gag.

I see it coming, but it happens so fast there's nothing I can do.

Henry's vomit streams through the towel and splatters onto the side of the seat he's facing.

It's too dark to see, but I think I hear it dripping onto the floor of the carriage and gods only know where else.

I need more light.

There should be a lantern underneath one of our seats. Henry coughs again as I feel around for it under mine. I find it, and light it using the match that's inside the glass.

It does not light up a pretty sight.

The vomit is on the floor all right, and just about everywhere else including one of my boots. It's a good thing I moved my medical bag up to my seat earlier or it'd be on that too.

I'm disheartened to see that's it's just as bloody as before, a glistening red string dripping from Henry's clenched teeth. He lets out a small whine and grabs his side with shaking hands.

I would help him lay back down, but I'm frozen with the shock of another ugly sight.

            It's Henry's back, it's covered with scars.

They aren't just any little marks either; they're thick white lines some so long they stretch the whole width of his back.

I wonder how it is I haven't noticed them until now, after all this isn't the first time I've seen Henry shirtless. When I think about it though, I've never seen him shirtless and from the back before. He's been lying on it all day, and every time he did sit up it was with his back to the carriage wall, just like it was the the wall of the infirmary tent that first night.

There isn't an inch of his skin that isn't marked. The way the scars crisscross over each other, and considering their sheer size, it's clear to see how he got them.

They're from a whip, or rather many many whips.

I'm stunned, motionless for a moment until I remember that Henry needs my help.

I lay the poor mage back down, bending his knees to keep his legs clear of the vomit.

I find that I'm avoiding touching his back without really thinking about it. I wonder if his scars are as sensitive as my own. Better safe than sorry I guess.

            I open the sliding panel behind me, intending to ask the coachman to pull over. But if we're anywhere near the capitol, it's almost worth waiting just to save from the trouble and to save a little time.

            "Excuse me, but how much longer until we reach Ylisstol?"

            I barely hear the man's response over the thundering hooves and rattling carriages. "Pro'ly not more'n ten minutes, Milady."

            I don't correct his mistake, instead lowering the tone of my voice to say, "Thank you."

I close the panel.

            Ten minutes. I think I can make it that long if I open the windows. The question is, can Henry?

When I look back to him after locking the second window in place, he's almost falling off the seat from curling forward so far in pain.

He's shaking like a leaf and there's nothing I can do to help him, except maybe to pray, until we get to Ylisstol.

            I've never been so grateful to see the shining lights of the capitol.

They pour in through the still-open windows as we pull up in front of the palace.

The doors creak open again, followed by the many footsteps of my comrades on the pavement. Everyone's anxious to get inside, including me.

I drape the towel Henry's laying on over his shoulders. I don't care that it has some blood on it, it's his best option to remain decent for lack of a clean shirt.

I don't actually know whether Henry cares about decency, but I've observed that he does seem to value his privacy. And I think letting everyone see those scars on his back would be an invasion of that.

            Towel or no towel, all eyes are still on Henry and me as I carry him to the palace doors. His back is covered up just fine, but the towel doesn't reach far enough to conceal his wound nor his internal bleeding. That's probably why everyone continues staring even after we're inside the entrance hall.

A couple of servants approach us with smiles that vanish when they take in the whole scene.

            Chrom speaks before they can. "Rosa, show Libra here to the infirmary please."

            Eyes wide, a red-haired maid stutters out a "Yes, sire. Right this way."

            The palace infirmary is a big long room with high ceilings and beds lining every wall. It looks large enough to accommodate an entire army at once.

Henry opens his eyes just a sliver when I set him down on one of the beds, pulling one of his smiling grimaces which Rosa seems confused by.

            "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

            I'm not used to being called 'sir' by anyone. While I like it better than 'madam,' I decide that I still don't like it.

            "Just Libra, please. And yes, I would appreciate it if you could summon the palace physician here as soon as possible."

            The maid gives a solemn nod. "Of course, s- Libra."

She leaves with all due haste.

            Henry's still shaking, though from pain or cold I can't tell. Either way, it couldn't hurt to find him a shirt of some kind.

Most infirmaries should have patient gowns stored somewhere...

Sure enough, I find an entire dresser full of them in a supply closet near the back wall. 

It's only after putting the garment on Henry that I happen to notice my own clothes are covered in blood. It's probably from a combination of things: the coughing, the vomiting, carrying Henry in that bloody towel. Whatever it was, it's everywhere, and I don't want to scare anyone by walking around like this. 

I remove the outer layers of my outfit, stripping down to the skin-tight black sweater I wear underneath it all. Thankfully, my trousers were spared so I can leave those on.

I gather up all the bloody clothes and the towel in a bundle and set them aside, looking back at Henry to realize that he's staring at me.

            "S-" He wheezes. "Sorry about that."

I thought he didn't believe in apologies, but I'm not going to point that out now. I'm just glad he's talking sense for once.

            "It's all right, Henry. It wasn't your fault."

            He shakes his head and closes his eyes again, leaving me to wonder if he was ever really awake to begin with.

            I stay in here with him until I hear a set of footsteps tapping down the marble floor behind me.

            A short, balding man in blue and scarlet robes approaches Henry's bedside.

"What manner of ailment is so important you had to get me up for it at this ungodly hour?"

            "It's his side, Doctor. He was stabbed there nearly a week ago, and has been bleeding internally for half that time."

            The old man grunts. "Hmph. Well, lets take a look then shall we? Sooner we get this over with, sooner I can get back to catching some shut-eye."

He lifts up Henry's gown, and his handbag slips from his fingers and thumps onto the floor.

"What in Naga's holy name...?"

He stands rigid, staring at Henry's wound for a good solid minute before I break the silence.

            "So what do you make of it?"

            The doctor shakes his head, mouth hanging open. "This boy needs immediate surgery. It's a miracle he's survived this long without it."

He picks his bag up off the floor and starts taking surgical tools out of it, along with a bottle of iodine and a vial of opaque white liquid labeled, 'S.P.'

Reaching into his bag again, he pauses and looks at me. "You'd best leave here now. A surgery is nothing for a lady like yourself to be watching."

            I'm tempted to protest, but he's probably right to make me leave. The last thing I'd want to do is interfere with the operation.

I ask the doctor to inform me when he's finished with his work and I take my leave.

One of the maids approaches me to let me know that my comrades went upstairs. At least most of them did; Chrom, Frederick and Robin are in some council room elsewhere.

I'm not exactly in a social mood right now, but for lack of a better place to wait out Henry's surgery, I go upstairs.

            I notice an empty parlor on my left as I stroll down the hall. It's small, with not but a couple of armchairs, a little round table and a lit fireplace.

I'm not sure where my comrades are on this floor, but right now the nice quiet parlor seems more tempting than the idea of joining up with them. It's not that I dislike their company, but the lot of them can be quite noisy at times. 

I walk across the polished oak floor and take a seat near the crackling flame.

It's so warm and soothing to listen to. It helps to ease my worried mind, along with the prayers I proceed to say for Henry.

            I'm not sure how long I've been in here when I hear footsteps coming down the hall.

I snap to attention, thinking it's a servant coming to tell me the surgery's over.

The person who appears in the doorway however, is not a servant. Quite the opposite actually, he's a nobleman, one with a frilly collar and long silver-blue hair.

            "Virion."

            He gives me a once-over. It's the lack of my outer shirt. He's never seen me dressed down like this before.

            "Pray, forgive the intrusion my good man. I was merely curious as to why you're in here all by yourself." He's standing respectfully just outside the doorway.

            I haven't even though about it until now, but I never apologized to him after I was so rude to him the other day. It completely slipped my mind.

            I rise to my feet. "I was just enjoying the quiet in here. Would you care to join me?"

            Virion bows his head. "T'would be my pleasure, thank you."

He walks up to the side of the fireplace across from me and assumes a practiced regal smile.

            I clear my throat. "I-I want to apologize about before, about the things I said to you that first day of the march. It was really inconsiderate of me and I'm sorry."

            He shakes his head with closed eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for, my good man. Why, I surprise even myself sometimes with how overwhelming my expressions of admiration can be. And for a wild flower such as your enchanting self who's so unused to such attention, of course it's only natural for you to misunderstand my true intent."

There's that smile again, so perfectly polite as to be expected from men of royal status.

            I feel a bit of warmth in my cheeks.

What does he want from me? I've told him before that flattery makes me uncomfortable, so he either forgot or he has some ulterior motive. 

If that's case I wish he would just tell me what it is so we can stop this confusing charade.

Maybe he will. It can't hurt to ask.

            I return his smile, though nowhere near his level of nobleness I'm sure. "What might that be?"

            "Beg pardon?"

            "Your true intent, what is it?"

            A blush steals over Virion's face. "I had, er hoped that I wouldn't have to be so blunt about the matter. However I see no reason to be elusive about it either... because I am not ashamed."

It couldn't be...

I'm not sure why, but my heart rate doubles when Virion closes the distance between us. "Libra... beautiful Libra, I am aware that you are no woman, yet still you enthrall me so. It is you alone who occupies my every waking thought, you who sends my heart aflutter with your luminescent presence. To be away from your radiance, even for a short time is torturous. I wish to be close to you always, and not just in the physical sense."

Did he really just...?

            It's my turn to blush again when Virion lowers to one knee. Slowly, looking into my eyes as if for permission, he lifts one of my hands up ever so gently and lets it rest atop his own palm.

I told him once of my aversion to being touched. It surprises me that he actually remembered.

            "I suppose I might as well come out and say it." He takes a short breath. "Libra, would you do me the honor of pursuing a courtship with me?"

I can't believe he just asked that.

            I'm speechless.

The manner of his proposal would be adequate for one of marriage.

It shocks me that he has the bravery to ask something like this of another man, and one of the cloth no less. Given the reputations that we both have at stake, he must be stark-raving mad.

...Why then does my heart still race and my breath catch in my throat?

It's all so sudden and confusing I'm unsure of what to do. According to everything I've ever been taught, I should already have rejected him and left the room and probably never spoken to him again. The answer should be so obvious, so why do I hesitate?

Virion seems to be wondering the same thing as he stares up at me with dark, swirling, hopeful eyes.

            Embarrassed as I am to think about it, I would normally chalk something like this up to him being overcome by lust. All things considering though, I doubt that's the case. I'm in my undershirt, my hair's a mess, I still have blood on my boot and I reek of vomit. That's not to mention the bags I'm sure I have under my eyes from my increasing lack of sleep as of late. For all that to inspire lust in a nobleman like Virion, well it just doesn't seem possible.

No, this... this is something else.

I'm starting to think he might actually be sincere.

            "Well, what do you say?"

He's being so patient, I feel bad for leaving him hanging like this.

            "...This is all so unexpected."

            He gives a small smile. "I understand why this might seem overwhelming to you, but you know it doesn't have to be forever. Our courtship could be as brief as you wish it to be. Also I assure you I have no intention of tarnishing your honorable reputation, nor mine for that matter. No one would ever have to know about us, but I don't think I could live with myself if I never built up the courage to ask you this, to know your true feelings. No matter the nature of your answer, at least I will have taken the initiative to eradicate all doubt. Because that, I believe would be harder to live with even than your rejection."

            Never in my life have I been so tempted by something so sinful.

If this is some test of my willpower from the gods, the they are cruel deities indeed.

            I sigh. "Virion,"

            "Yes?"

            "Is it possible that I could answer your question at a later time?"

            He stands up again, still holding my hand atop his own. "But of course, my dear man. Take all the time you need. In the meantime..." His eyes lock with mine again as he raises my hand up toward his face. He's not even holding onto it, giving me the freedom to pull away at any time, but I don't. I make no move to stop him as he bends forward and places the gentlest of kisses on the back of my hand.

"I'll be waiting, patiently."

            My heart is still pounding even after he leaves the room.

How did he do that? Another man shouldn't be able to make me feel this way; it's so... unholy.

So many thoughts are swirling in my mind, but I'm not given much time to process them, as mere minutes later Rosa comes and tells me that the surgery is finished.


	8. Lady

            I could not be happier right now.

Well, I suppose I could be if the blackness in Henry's blood vessels was gone, but considering that's all that remains of his discolored skin I'm not complaining.

He's still asleep, and probably will be for the rest of tonight.

This is the first peaceful rest he's had in days and I'm not about to disturb it. I pull his gown back down and cover him with the blanket from an adjacent bed.

Now I pick my lantern back up and leave the infirmary with a smile.

            Henry stirs in his sleep and his eyelids flutter open.

            "Good morning," I say softly. "How are you feeling?"

            His eyes find my face and light up with a smile, a real, genuine smile. "I feel... good, I think." He twists his torso slightly and his smile widens. "Yeah, I feel really good."

            I return his grin. "I'm glad to hear it. You'll be happy to know that the surgery was a complete success; the doctor managed to drain out all the excess blood and even stopped more from coming. You should be able to move around a lot better now."

            Henry furrows his brow. "What blood?"

            I feel my smile start to fade. "The blood in your abdomen."

            He narrows his eyes. "Riiight."

            "Don't you remember?"

            "'Fraid not, oh but I wish I did. Blood in my abdomen sounds awesome! Could you like see it through my skin? What color was it?"

            I shake my head. "You mean you really forgot?"

            "That's what I just said, isn't it?"

            His memory loss is concerning, but all things considering he's probably better for it.

While I am curious just how much he's forgotten, I don't want to overwhelm him with questions at the moment.

Instead, I ask him if he feels up to eating anything. He hasn't for almost two days.

He says he's not hungry, but that he would drink some water if it would make me happy. We compromise on lentil broth. It's the best non-solid food I can think of to help his body replace some of its lost blood.

            When he's finished eating, I make the suggestion that he might be more comfortable in a private bedchamber than in here.

He agrees, his gaze drifting to the chamber pot that's sitting in the corner with not so much as a curtain to draw around it.

I don't see any problem with moving him. Unless he happens to need another surgery, which hopefully he won't, there is no conceivable medical care that can't be given to him somewhere other than the infirmary. Besides, the most accessible room is right across the hall from mine and I wouldn't mind Henry being a little closer to me in the event that he might need me for something.

The one drawback is that it's on the second floor, but Henry seems to take the stairs a lot better now than he did that night at the inn. He doesn't even need my shoulder this time, just the handrail. I stay a couple steps behind him just in case, but he does fine on his own.

It's gratifying to see him make such a comeback like this; I just hope to the gods it lasts. I remember Tharja said Henry's fate was sealed, but I'm still holding out on the hope that this will end with him going down these stairs by himself too, and not... well, not covered with a sheet.

I know that it's unlikely, that Tharja would say it's impossible. In the end though, what does a man have but his hope?

            "Oh, this is so much better." Henry sighs as he settles on the edge of the bed. "That other mattress felt like I was lying on rocks. Not a rock mind you, but like a bunch of little sharp ones, the kind that dig into your back and make your legs go numb. Wouldn't surprise me if that's what they stuffed it with, actually..."

            I smile at the sight of his contentment. "I thought you might like it."

            He lies back with his hands behind his head and gives a little laugh. "Yep, this is the kind of bed a guy could really die in."

            I'm no longer smiling. It's kind of hard to with the image of Henry holding a dagger to his chest in my mind.

I don't know why I'm thinking of that just now, something about his comment I guess.

It's scaring me.

I think it was more the way he said it actually. It was almost as if... I hate to think it, but he sounded like he doesn't care if he dies.

Or worse, that he wants to.

            I shake my head, trying to rid it of these horrible images but they won't disappear so easily.

Henry hasn't sat back up yet, and I take that as a sign that he's still tired.

            "Well... I think I'll let you rest for a bit." I excuse myself from the room.

            He pokes his head up when I turn to leave, but I keep going.

I walk straight over to my room and close the door behind me.

I fling open the pack that's on the foot of my bed and tear through my clothes until I see glint of Henry's daggers.

Right where I left them.

I sigh, feeling my shoulders relax.

I'm not sure why I felt the need to check, or why my heart is beating so hard right now.

            I close my pack, only realizing now that I forgot Henry's in the infirmary.

He'll probably be wanting that at some point.

I should get it for him, but first I put my pack in the bottom drawer of the dresser.

I take a deep breath, glancing back at the dresser as I leave the room.

            At the bottom of the staircase I walk past Vaike and Lissa, the former of which is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed so as to make his biceps bulge.

He says something I don't catch that makes the princess giggle a little bit too enthusiastically.

I can't understand what she sees in him, but it's not my place to judge. 

I think little of the encounter, not even stopping on my way to the infirmary.

            Henry's pack is right where I left it, and so is the pile of bloody clothes I've yet to take care of.

I think I'll do that now actually. The outfit I'm currently wearing is my only spare, and poor Henry's still stuck wearing that patient gown.

I try to make the bundle look inconspicuous as I carry it out into the hall, that is I  _try_.

It's no easy feat when over half the clothes are white, which makes for a striking contrast to dark red stains. Still, I do the best I can, trying to figure out where the laundry room could be when I run into none other than Rosa.

Perfect timing.

            "Excuse me, Rosa,"

            "Yes?" She halts, turning to look at me with a polite smile that vanishes at the sight of what's in my hands.

            "I wonder could you do me a favor," I lift Henry's pack off my shoulder and hold it out. "-and take this to the room across from mine please?

            Her alarmed expression relaxes a bit and she takes the pack. "Of course."

She seems relieved. I think she was expecting me to have her wash the clothes.

I would tell her that I have no such intentions, but I worry that could be misinterpreted so instead I ask her where the laundry room is.

            It turns out the laundry room is a separate building outside the palace on the outer edge of one of the courtyards. I likely wouldn't have found it on my own.

I approach the door and reach for the handle, but pause when something catches my eye.

It's a horse, being led by a stable boy across the courtyard path toward the palace stables. The horse reminds me of the ones that pulled our carriages yesterday, specifically the one Henry and I rode in.

One of his shirts is still in there. Since I'm washing some clothes already, I might as well do all of them.

I approach the stable boy, and he agrees to show me where the carriages are kept.

            The smell is the first thing I notice when I open the carriage door, the stench of rancid blood and stale vomit. No one's cleaned it out yet, probably because they don't know it's there. I doubt they even checked inside the carriages before they put them away.

Henry's shirt is under his seat where I left it, along with the towel that's gone stiff from the dried blood it's soaked in.

It's stuck to the floor so that I have to peel it off.

This is not going to be fun to clean up later.

            I light a bit of fresh kindling beneath slightly charred logs to heat up one of the cauldrons of water by the laundry room wall.

Now I hunt down a bar of soap and get to work scrubbing at bloodstains in the central floor basin. 

After just a few seconds I pause, thinking I hear something, but end up listening for nothing but silence.

I resume scrubbing.

There it is again, I little whine and... sniffling?

Where is it coming from?

I look around the dimly lit room, but notice nothing until I hear a strangled sob.

I turn my gaze to the corner behind me and sure enough, sitting on an upturned bucket in the shadows is a weeping Maribelle.

            I drop the clothes in the water and turn my whole body to face her. "Maribelle, whatever is the matter?"

            She hiccups, dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. "Oh, sweet Libra, your concern is touching but I'm afraid this is just too horrible to talk about."

            Whatever this is it's no business of mine, still I hate to see my friend so distraught.

"Well, if you decide that you do wish to discuss it, know that I'm here for you."

I lift the clothes back out of the water, and the sound of me wringing them out becomes the only sound in the room save for the crackling fire. 

            This fact soon changes as Maribelle's footsteps draw up behind me. 

She sets her bucket down a few feet away from me and sits on it once again, tucking one leg behind the other.

I continue to work in silence for a moment.

            "...Say, Libra, you are a priest are you not?"

            I turn to her, one eyebrow raised. "I am."

            She avoids my eyes, twirling a blonde curl around her finger as if struggling to find her next words. "Then say I was to confess something to you, something... of a sinful nature. Would you be able to absolve me of it?"

            I let the clothes fall into the water again. "I could tell you if your sin is forgivable, certainly. It is not my place though to pass judgement onto you, rather 'tis up to the gods themselves."

            "Yes, I know that. It just that, well I need to confide in someone, and you're the only person I know I can trust to keep my secret."

            I say nothing.

            Maribelle's eyes well up with tears as she stares into the distance. "It..." She sniffles and now sighs. "It happened earlier this morning. I was walking down the main hall when I saw Lissa and Vaike talking, flirting actually. The two of them have been spending some time together in between battles and I guess I didn't think much of it until this morning." She shakes her head.

"As I watched them interact, I felt something well up inside me, envy. The bastard did naught but whisper sweet nothings in her ear and she practically melted over him. It was sickening. It filled me with such a heartache I've never known, though I know such feelings to be wrong." She gives a small sob.

Based on what she's said so far, it doesn't seem likely that Maribelle's heartache is for Vaike. I think I might know where this is going.

"I wanted to march right up to the pair and shove them so far away from each other that neither would so much as look at the other again. I'm not used to such a feeling of blind rage, and oh how it scared me so. I knew not how else to retain my composure but to flee from the room. I continued to flee until I got this far and then I just couldn't hold back the tears any longer." She dabs her eyes again, lip trembling.

"...I-I guess what I want from you Libra is to answer me this: Can it really be a sin to love another, simply because you happen to have one thing in common?"

She's referring to her gender, a thing she has in common with Lissa.

            I don't know what to tell her. According to the religion I've based my very life around, the answer should be yes. That she's a horrible sinner and she's going to hell.

But do I really believe that?

If I did, I reckon Virion would've felt the sting of my rejection last night and I wouldn't have cared in the slightest.

The problem is, I do care. I care so much that I'm letting my own personal feelings blind me from what I should know to be gospel.

I don't though. And it's for this reason that I'm unfit to speak on behalf of the clergy about the matter. Rather I feel it best in this situation to speak on behalf of myself, not as a priest, but as a friend.

            I shake my head. "I don't believe that."

The words are even more shocking coming from my mouth than my head.

            Maribelle stares at me, eyes pink and glistening. "Do you really mean it?"

            I nod, though still uncertain. "I do not believe that our gods could be so cruel as to punish a soul for the very thing it was created to do, which is to love."

I would take one of her hands if mine weren't both dripping wet.

"I am sorry about Lady Lissa. Your situation is truly unfortunate, but you know you'll always have her as a friend if nothing more. While that may not be what your heart desires, it's better than nothing. And in time, who knows? The gods have a way of surprising us when we least expect it."

            Her lips quirk into a slight, sad smile. "I guess you're right. Things could certainly be worse."

She takes a deep breath and her half-smile widens to make a dimple in her cheek. "Thank you, Libra. You've been a big help as always. Now I suppose it's time for me to help you." She leans forward, looking into the floor basin. "That is  _not_ how you remove blood stains."

            When I've finished the laundry, with a little help from Maribelle, I go back inside only to be called away to the council room were all of my comrades, save for Henry, are waiting for me.

Here, Chrom proceeds to discuss the current situation with everyone, and to inform us that he's taking a trip to Regna Ferox along with some of the Ylissean guard to appeal for further aid in the war.

The rest of us will be staying here at the palace until further notice. I don't mind this one bit except for the fact that Frederick is to be left in charge.

I'm sure the knight has nothing but the purest intentions. The only problem is his way of implementing these can be, well, harsh at times. As long as we're staying at the palace though, I don't imagine he can give us too much grief. Our training regimen might become a little stricter is all.

I'm not sure why such a simple meeting takes so long, but by the time we leave the council room the sun is already descending on it's arc across the sky.

            I eat a late lunch with the other Shepherds, and afterward ask Rosa to offer Henry some more broth, along with some bread if he'll take it.

I would bring it up to him myself, but I'm running out of daylight hours to clean out that carriage.

I know one of the servants would do it for me if I asked, but that's not really their job. While it's not mine either, I feel it's my responsibility. After all, I did volunteer to take care of Henry, and whether I like it or not, that includes taking care of his... messes.

            I didn't eat much at lunch, but now I'm beginning to wish that I'd skipped it entirely as I'm struggling to keep it down.

I've never had much of an issue with blood, but the smell. Oh the smell.

Blood mixed with vomit reeks twice as bad as either on their own. It's even worse when I get it wet, and having to keep my face so close to it as I scrub, well it sure doesn't help.

When I finally finish cleaning the carriage, the shadows around me have blended into darkness and the moon is peeking over the palace walls.

I leave the vehicle outside so it can air out, and pick up the now-dry laundry on my way back inside.

            The palace corridors are all but deserted. It looks like everyone has gone to bed. I'm about ready to do just that, but first I want to check on Henry.

I go up to his room and knock softly on the door before opening it.

He's still in bed, but also still awake. He's sitting cross-legged on top of the bedding, just in front of the pillow.

He smiles when he sees me, and I smile back.

On his nightstand there's an empty bowl and a small plate with an untouched chunk of bread. I guess as long as the bowl at least is empty I won't complain.

            I approach his bedside and hold up his grey shirt. "I thought you might like to have this back, so I washed it for you."

His smile widens and he gives a little laugh. "Wow, thanks!"

He takes it from me and holds it up himself. "This one is my favorite."

            "There's also these." I hand him his undershirt, waist wrap, and tights. "And I put your shoes in your pack last night."

            Henry shakes his head. "Aw, you didn't have to do all this."

            "I wanted to," I assure him.

            "Well it's a lot of trouble to go to for a goner, doncha think?" He raises an eyebrow.

            "Not at all." I feel my expression tense as I take a seat on the foot of his bed.

That concern Henry invoked in me this morning is returning to me now. I don't like to hear that kind of talk from him.

"Henry, for the little trouble this took you are absolutely worth it."

            He doesn't say anything, just a "Hm."

            We sit in silence.

His lack of self-worth worries me. It's exactly the kind of thing I'd expect from someone who wants to die.

The way he tried to that night at the inn.

I don't think I can put this off any longer. There's one question that's been nagging at the back of my mind all day, and now seems like the time to have it answered.

            "Henry,"

            He looks up at me, a trace of a smile on his lips.

Maybe I shouldn't be doing this now. He's happy and feeling good for the first time in days. Do I really want to jeopardize that?

No, but I think again about what he tried to do to himself the other night, what he almost did. There was a reason behind that, and until I know what that reason is I'm clueless as to how I might prevent it from happening again.

It's because he's feeling better that it has to be now. I have no idea how long this will last, and it's better to bring this up now than when he's already suffering.

            I take a deep breath. "Who's Lady?"

            Henry's smile is gone in an instant, and replaced with a look of such utter shock I regret even asking.

"H-how do you-?"

I've never known him to stutter before.

"Where did you hear that name?"

He's not even pretending to smile, his eyes wide, almost... fearful.

He doesn't remember what happened.

I didn't know he'd forgotten that much, but when I think about it, it's probably for the best that he doesn't know.

            I shake my head. "You know what? Never mind, I'm sorry I asked."

            "No." Henry makes me jump when he grabs my hand. "Tell me."

            I don't think I can bring myself to do that.

The problem is, I'm in too deep now. I have to tell him something.

I have to make up something.

            "You said the name in your sleep." 

Naga, forgive my dishonesty.

            Henry stares at me for a long time.

"In my sleep..." he whispers.

            "It's okay, Henry. You don't have to tell me." This is clearly upsetting him more than I thought it would. "Actually just forget I even asked."

            Henry squeezes my hand tighter. "I can't do that."

            "What do you mean?" The question seems stupid when I say it out loud.

            He stares at our joined hands for a bit before he speaks. "My side hurts."

That's concerning, but I don't see how it's relevant.

His eyes meet mine once again. "The pain's a lot better than before, but it's still pretty bad. If I'm being totally honest, I could use a little company right now. Also..."

He looks away again. "Also a little distraction. I'll tell you what you wanna know." He takes a long, deep breath and releases my hand.

"Lady... He was a classmate of mine back at a Plegian sorcery school. We were very close."

He? A boy was named Lady?

Henry's gaze grows distant. "He was the first human friend I ever made, and the only one for a long time. Before I met him, I didn't know what it was to care about another person, or to have one care about me. He showed me a whole new perspective on things, that life could be about more than just surviving long enough to see the next sunrise."

The trace of a smile returns to his lips. "Lady had another friend he introduced me to, Pyrenees. The two of them were the closest thing I ever had to a human family. They're the only reason I didn't die in that gods forsaken place.

Pyrenees? Like the dog?

            I don't mean to interrupt, but he's taking a pause anyway.

"Was that his real name?"

            Henry raises an eyebrow and now shakes his head. "Neither of them were. Lady and Pyrenees, they gave each other those names for reasons I never asked. They gave me one too, I was Snow. I never asked about that one either, but I always guessed it was because it snowed the day I arrived at that place, the first snow of the season."

He takes a long pause and a short breath. "This... This is really hard for me to talk about."

            I give him a look of compassion. "You don't have to. You aren't obligated to share any of this with me. I understand completely if-"

            "No, I want to." He cuts in. "Lady's story, it deserves to be told. I think someone oughta hear it before I die."

I feel like I should be happy, but really I'm just worried by how accepting Henry is of his fate already.

            "His real name was Asraiah, and until this moment I was the only one who ever knew that. Not even Pyrenees..." He doesn't finish his sentence.

"I was different I guess. Lady wasn't afraid to tell me things like that. He used to say it was my eyes, that they told him he could trust me. He was the only one who ever said things like that to me, how much he trusted me, how much he-" Henry cuts his sentence short, his eyes shifting to my chest.

            I'm puzzled at first until I realize that's where my necklace is, the one I usually keep tucked under my shirt. I remember it slipped out earlier when I was bending over cleaning the carriage.

It's a little silver pendant shaped like the mark of Naga.

I don't get it. Why would the sight of that stop him from speaking unless-

Oh.

I think I understand the true nature of Henry's relationship with this boy, one that my religion would frown upon.

            "How much he loved you," I finish for him.

            Henry looks stunned. After a moment he nods, tears glistening in his eyes. "That's right. He loved me more than I could ever understand why, so much that he risked his own life to save mine. Back at the school they had this room, the 'Thinking Room' they called it. It was where they put the kids who fucked up real bad so that they could think about what they'd done." Henry shakes his head.

"The damn thing was full of spikes. One time they tossed me in there and left me for gods only know how long. I've never bled so much in my life. Anyway, Lady's the one who found me, got me out of there. He carried me all the way up to our dorm and didn't leave my side for days. He broke the rules by going down in the basement to look for me, and then broke even worse ones when he stole medical supplies from the nearby village to heal me. If it wasn't for him I'd be rotting in the ground right now, but he was taking a huge risk because if he'd been caught..." Henry shakes his head again.

"It wasn't just that time either. Lady saved my life on more than one occasion, and I... I never thanked him for it. I feel so bad about that, looking back on it now because-"

Henry covers his mouth with a sharp breath, the tears finally falling from his eyes. 

"When the time came for me to do the same for him, I failed. Lady, my Lady... I let him die."

I wish there was some way I could comfort him, but I fear my efforts may do more harm than good. What he really needs now is just for me to listen, and so I do.

"I was fifteen years old when Validar took the throne."

I notice that Henry didn't say 'King.'

"He's always been a leading figure in the Grimleal faith, and when he rose to power he made it his purpose to strengthen that faith among the Plegian people. He started campaigning to gain followers, as well as sending the ones he had on what he called Persuasion Missions. Really that was just a fancy way of saying raids, because that's all they were. Mobs of Grimleal would go to towns and villages hopes of increasing their numbers. The way they went about this though... well, it earned them the nickname Messoremes. That translates to Reapers, if that tells you anything."

Henry grabs a handful of blanket and grips it tight.

"They came to our school once, in the dead of the night. No one knew they were coming, but we figured it out quickly enough once the fires started. Pyrenees was so brave. He didn't leave the burning building until he made sure everyone made it out. Looking back on it now though, it almost would've been better for us to stay inside, to let the flames and the falling ceiling kill us. It would've been quicker. The Reapers were waiting for us outside. They had us surrounded, outnumbered, we didn't stand a chance against them. They moved so fast, and killed- and killed so slow. When it comes to feeding the Fell Dragon, the more the victim suffers the better. And they did suffer, teachers and students alike. They didn't realize just how lucky they were though. The Reapers only killed them and took their bodies, but with Lady... they-"

Fresh tears stream down Henry's face.

"They decided to make an example of him, just because of what he was, because of me. They didn't just take his body," Henry's voice cracks, lowering to a whisper. "They took his soul."

            I have no words, no idea how to comfort him. What am I even supposed to say to something like that?

            He continues, his voice shaking. "To do that to someone is difficult, too much so to waste time doing it during a raid. Lady was just an exception I guess. We had gotten separated while trying to escape. I looked back to see them dragging him up onto a pedestal, where everyone would have a clear view of the show. I ran like hell, but in the end I couldn't- I wasn't fast enough. Of all the things I wish I could unsee..."

He releases the blanket from his grasp, leaving it stretched and twisted.

"If you've never watched a soul-reaping, don't. You won't ever forget it."

More tears come, and Henry's face contorts as he lets out a sob.

            I want to help, to make him feel better, but I don't know what to say. I try the first thing that comes to mind. "It's okay."

Bad move.

Henry shakes his head, sobbing again before he practically screams. "NO! No, it's not okay and it never will be!"

            "I'm sorry, that was the wrong thing to say."

            Henry ignores me, covering his face with both hands.

He takes a few shaking breaths before he pulls his hands away, wiping his face. "When I die, I won't be reunited with Lady. His soul isn't waiting for me in heaven where it should be. It's stuck at the Dragon's Table along with his body, waiting for the day he'll be devoured and killed. He'll be lost forever, never to enter the afterlife or to be born again, or to see me, not even one last time. I never got to say goodbye to him, and I never will."

I don't think I could imagine a more tragic fate. To think that Henry's been keeping all this bottled up inside for so long and never let on to any of it...

When he finally stops crying, he wipes his face again and looks up at me. "I can tell you feel bad for bringing this up, but don't. I'm glad you did."

            I shake my head. "I don't know what to say."

           "You don't have to say anything, just- Could you maybe stay with me a little bit longer?"

            "Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that headcanon I mentioned in the tags?  
> ...Yeah, that was it.


	9. Brotherhood

            I have a dream that Henry kills himself.

He comes into my room in the middle of the night and finds his daggers.

In the dream I wake up. I see what he's doing but I can't stop him.

I'm frozen in place.

Henry looks at me, and gives me a smile so sad it breaks my heart before he plunges the blade into his chest.

I try to call out to him, to call for help, to say something, anything, but my voice is gone.

Henry collapses in a pool of red.

I'm paralyzed, helpless to save him.

I'm choking on my words.

I can't breathe.

            I open my eyes.

It isn't my words I'm choking on, it's my tears.

It's been a while since I've woken up like this, years even. I'd forgotten how miserable it is.

My throat is dry and sticky and my heart's pounding so hard it's almost painful. Worse than these facts though is the feeling of dread and panic that lingers with me, the feeling that it wasn't just a dream. 

But it had to be... right?

I get out of bed and cross the room straight to my dresser. I bend down to open the bottom drawer when I have a thought that stops me. If the daggers aren't in here, then the only other place the could be is where I should look first.

I go to Henry's room and open the door just a crack.

He's fast asleep, thank the gods.

I don't know what I got so worked up for; it was just a dream, after all.

            I go back to my room, but I don't go back to bed. I don't think I could sleep right now if I wanted to.

Instead I get dressed and go downstairs, looking for a quiet place to clear my mind.

This isn't hard to do, as the palace is eerily quiet this early in the morning. I begin to wonder if anyone else is even up, that is until I enter a sitting room in the east wing and find myself in the company of the very man I've been avoiding since the night before last.

            "Ah, good morning Libra." The nobleman sets down the book he's reading and rises to his feet when he sees me in the doorway.

            "Good morning, Virion."

I walk over to one of the tall, arched windows on the opposite side of the room from him and sit down on the bench here. 

            I'm not sure why I do this. If I really wanted to avoid him it would be all too easy. All I would have to do is say that I took a wrong turn and continue on my way, but instead I choose to join his company.

So what does that say about me?

Perhaps that I don't want to avoid him as badly as I thought, or maybe it's that I don't want to be left alone with my thoughts right now.

I think it might be a little of both.

            Whatever my reason, Virion doesn't question it. He also doesn't come any closer, seeming to sense my need for space.

He remains at a respectful distance and once again takes his seat.

We sit in silence for a moment before he says the words I've been dreading to hear. "So, have you thought any more about my proposal?"

            I sigh.

The truth is I haven't stopped thinking about it, whenever my mind is otherwise unoccupied.

I also haven't come up with an answer, despite all that I know telling me I should refuse him. 

But do I know that? After my conversation with Maribelle yesterday, I think I'm actually starting to doubt that belief.

Be that the case, I don't know that I should deny him just yet, at least not without an actual, legitimate reason why it wouldn't work out.

I'm surprised by how hard I'm finding it to come up with one.

            "I need more time." I tear my gaze away from the dim, frosty window to look at him.

"I have a lot on my mind right now, what with Henry's illness, and Prince Chrom being away, and Plegia's advancements in the war... I'm sorry, but I can't give you an answer just yet."

            He shakes his head. "Don't apologize. I understand completely. Being an important noble figure in my homeland, there have been many a time when I was forced to make big decisions during times of great trial. I know you must be feeling terribly overwhelmed at the moment, and so I apologize for springing this on you now."

He pauses, folding his hands in his lap.

"It's just that, well, I don't know that I have a lot of time. You see, when this war is over, I'm going home to Rosanne and we may never see each other again. So you must understand why I felt a certain urgency about the situation, but that doesn't mean I want you to. The last thing I want to do is put you under the kind of pressure that I've been under in times past. You don't have to give me your answer today, tomorrow, or ever if you don't want to. Although, I would prefer you not choose the latter option. Really, you could put it off until the end of the war and I would still wait for you."

Does he really mean that?

I've never known him to be a liar.

Still, it seems too good to be true. He'd be giving up every opportunity he might have at another courtship whilst here in Ylisse, and for what?

Uncertainty, that's what.

            "Why?" I ask. "You could have any woman in all of Ylisse, even those of nobility, yet you would await my answer to your proposal for prospective years?"

            Virion's cheeks flush. "Don't you see?" I don't want any woman in Ylisse. Not Ylisse or Regna Ferox or Plegia or Valm or this whole wide world if it means giving up any chance I might have with you."

            Given Virion's womanizing nature, I don't know that I can believe what he's saying, at least not without knowing his true motive.

            I fold my arms over my chest. "But why me?"

            He gives me a nervous smile, sweat beading on his forehead. "...Because, Libra, I'm in love with you. Hopelessly, shamelessly in love. Such feelings of pure and utter devotion I've never felt for anyone before you, and I would go to any means to ensure that you stay happily by my side for all of eternity."

That's exactly what I was afraid of.

The sad part is that I can tell he's sincere, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to break it to him...

I like him okay as a friend, and he's among my closest and most trusted of allies.

But to be in love with him?

Well that's another thing entirely, another thing I'm not sure my damaged heart is capable of.

Maybe it's best to break it to him now, rather than continuing to leave him in anticipation.

            "Virion... I-"

I'm cut off by the creak of the door opening.

            Gaius leans his ginger head in, looking back and forth between us. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

How did I not hear him approach?

            I shake my head. "What is it, Gaius?"

            "Oh nothing, only that Freddy Bear wants to see you two in the council room." He shrugs. "Also if you like your pretty little necks intact, I suggest you don't keep him waiting."

I can't decide whether his timing is awful or perfect.

            It isn't just Frederick that's waiting for us in the council room, it's everyone. Everyone who can be here that is. Most of them are sitting around the big table in the middle of the room.

            Frederick stands at the head of said table, a map of Ylisse spread out in front of him.

"Ah, it's about time you get here. We've just received word of a raid going on a little ways northeast of here, in the village of Grenwich."

            Grenwich. That's the neighboring village to the monastery where I spent the latter half of my childhood. I have fond memories of that place.

Fond, at least as far as my childhood memories go.

            Frederick continues, "We can be there by early afternoon if we leave now. We may not be able to prevent the raiders from doing much more harm, but at the very least we can drive them away and help the villagers to deal with the aftermath. Now this mission is strictly voluntary, though I do expect most of you to come along."

Does he know what voluntary means?

            That's doubtful, but it doesn't matter because I'd still want to go either way.

I haven't been back to the Grenwich monastery in nearly a decade. I have many brothers there that I do miss dearly, and would love to pay them a visit once we've finished with our business there.

It seems like perfect timing, seeing as how Henry's doing the best he has in days. If he's anywhere near as well as yesterday, then he should be just fine under the care of the servants here.

            I raise my hand. "I'll go."

            Frederick looks at me, first with a raised eyebrow and now with his signature straight-lipped smile. "Excellent. Who else?"

            There's a show of hands around the room, some more hesitant than others, but eventually nearly all of my comrades volunteer.

It seems to me at least that some of them are only agreeing to go out of the fear of what Frederick will have them do if they stay behind.

            Seeming satisfied, the knight picks up the map and rolls it up. "Well then, we'll be departing within the hour, so I suggest you all make necessary preparations with due haste."

            As everyone files out of the council room, I'm the first one to ascend the stairs.

I go straight to my room to get ready, planning to check on Henry before I leave.

All doesn't quite go to plan, as I've only started to dig out my armor when I hear the sound of glass shattering, followed by a scream.

A shrill, blood-curdling cry of agony.

Henry.

            I rush to his door and throw it open to see him curled up on the floor and holding his head, eyes squeezed shut.

The shattered glass was that of the one on his nightstand, only it didn't just fall off.

It looks like it exploded.

Shards of it are embedded in the cracks of the stone walls on either side of the nightstand, some fanning out several feet.

But that's not even possible, unless...

Henry grunts and writhes in pain, and as he holds in a breath the bowl on the same nightstand shatters of its own accord.

It's his magic. The pain must be causing him to lose control of it.

            I kneel at his side, unsure of how to help him.

"Henry," I try. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

            At the sound of my voice, the dark mage cries out and a bold of raw, uncontrolled energy shoots out of his fingertips, scorching the wall behind the head he's holding.

That's obviously the problem, and my soft voice was enough to make it worse. I don't think it's the only contributor either.

The wooden panel that serves as Henry's window is wide open, letting the bright morning sunlight stream freely through.

Considering he's right in front of this, it's apparent that he was trying to close it when the pain became to much for him and he collapsed.

I move around him and shut it myself, as quietly as I can and still the click of the latch is enough to make him whimper.

The only light in the room now is that of the dim hallway, visible through the open door.

I'm not sure how to go about helping Henry, but getting him up off the floor might be a start.

            I kneel beside him once again and lower my voice to a whisper. "I'm going to help you sit up, okay?"

            Wincing, Henry gives a slight nod. Or maybe it's a flinch, I can't tell.

Either way, his body is mostly limp when I pull him upright, his eyes still shut and breaths shaking.

I've had my fair share of headaches before, but what Henry's experiencing looks like something on a whole other level.

There's a word for it I think, and I try to remember...

Migraine, that was it.

Henry's having a migraine.

            He stays sitting up when I let go of him, bracing himself against the wall. I can't count on this lasting long though, so I have to move fast.

I take the top blanket off the bed, thankful that it was still spread out so nearly all of the broken glass is contained on it. The pillow too, I drop them both on the floor.

Now I go back to Henry and ask him if he can stand up.

He proceeds to try, but this ends with another scorch mark on the wall and him even further from standing.

I feel bad because I could've helped him just now, but I hesitated. If I had tried something though, then the wall might not be the only thing that got burned.

Still, despite the risk I have to do something.

I think it best not to make Henry strain himself any more, instead lifting him completely off the floor and carrying him to the half-stripped bed.

He curls up on his side again the second I lay him down, head sandwiched between his hands.

He'd probably relax easier with his pillow back. I brush all the broken glass off of it that I can see, and flip the side in question down just in case before I slip it under his head.

He opens his eyes just a sliver and moans.

I have to get something for him: herbs, a wet cloth, anything to help make this better.

Thinking about the herbs in my medical bag, I start to turn away when Henry grabs my wrist with trembling fingertips.

            "Wait." His voice is barely audible. "Don't g- gah!" His head jerks forward, and I feel a sharp sting where he's holding me.

            A cry of pain escapes my lips before I can silence it, and I pull my wrist away on instinct.

            Henry looks up at me, eyes now open wide. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-" He cuts his words short when he sees the look on my face.

            If I had noticed my own expression sooner I would've tried to change it, but I only realize now that it's too late that my eyes must reflect what I'm feeling.

Fear.

            "Excuse me, Libra?" The soft voice behind me makes me jump.

            I whip around to see Rosa's silhouette in the doorway.

Whatever she needs from me, I don't want to make Henry's head hurt worse by talking to her in here.

I hate to think what else could happen if his pain gets bad enough.

            Still a bit shaken, I step out into the hall and gesture for Rosa to follow, closing the door behind us.

"What is it?"

            "It's Sir Frederick. He's requested your presence in the entry hall. He told me to let you know that everyone's waiting."

            They're ready to leave? So soon?

I still want to go, but I can't leave just yet. I only need a little more time.

            I sigh. "Could you tell him I'll be down there shortly please?"

            The maid nods and makes her way back down the hall.

            I go into my room.

I stare at the armor laid out on my bed for a moment before grabbing my medical bag and going back to Henry.

            I work fast, fishing out the herbs I need, grinding them up, and starting the fire in this room's little fireplace. Now using the kettle from my bag and some water from the basin stand pitcher, I wrap the crushed herbs in a small cloth and hang them in the kettle over the still-growing flames.

Henry doesn't seem to appreciate the extra light from the fire, but he doesn't complain either. I think he might be afraid to after hurting me, that he doesn't want to push his luck any farther and make me unwilling to help him.

My wrist still burns whenever it brushes against something, but Henry should know by now that I don't give up that easily.

            Wondering whether heat or cold would be better for him, I walk up to him and feel his forehead.

He's bordering on feverish, so I'm thinking cold.

He opens his eyes and looks up at me, a hint of hesitance in them like there's something he wants to say.

            "Is something wrong?" I ask.

            Without breaking eye contact, Henry covers his mouth.

He doesn't have to say it, I know what the problem is.

I help him sit upright and fetch the chamber pot from the basin stand.

He grasps it weakly, but I still feel the need to hold it as he bends his face over it and waits in obvious agony for what's to come.

It takes longer than usual. By the time Henry starts to gag, the kettle's already roaring in pre-boil, steam erupting from the spout.

He struggles to keep breathing and I rub his back before I think about his scars. He doesn't flinch though, and it might seem suspicious if I suddenly stopped so I keep rubbing, hoping he'll hurry this up before the kettle starts to whistle.

There's a knock at the door, a loud and rapid one that makes Henry wince.

            "One minute please," I say softly.

            The person knocking doesn't seem to hear me, as the door now flies open.

It's Frederick, standing there in full armor.

            "When I said 'we're waiting,' I meant we're ready to leave now. What's taking you so long?"

            I hold up a hand, trying to get him to quiet down. "I just need another minute, if you could please wait in the hall-"

            "We're done waiting."

The volume of his voice makes Henry squeeze his eyes shut.

"Do you think those bandits in Grenwich give a damn if one of our men is sick? Do you think they'll hold off on hurting people on account of you taking care of him?"

            Henry lets out a small whine, and the wall sconce by the door begins to rattle.

            "Frederick, please."

            He ignores me. "No, they won't. In fact they're out there right now, pillaging and killing as we speak."

The kettle begins a low whistle and the sconce rattles harder.

            Still I keep my voice down, hoping, praying he'll follow suit. "Listen-"

"No, you listen. While you're in here having a tea party, people are dying!"

The whistle bursts into full volume and Henry can't bear it.

The sconce shatters into a thousand tiny pieces, and the bottom of the chamber pot grows warm as it fills with bloody vomit.

I feel a wetness on my arm before I realize Henry still has his eyes closed and pull him farther forward.

He gasps and sputters and I wait to see if he's finished so I can take care of that infernal whistling when it stops itself.

            I look behind me to see Frederick setting the kettle on top of the fireplace using the hooked end of the fire stoker.

He sighs. "We're leaving right now." His voice is finally lowered. I think the sconce shattering might've been what tipped him off.

"If you wish to join us, you'll have to catch us at the door."

He leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

            After a second bout of vomiting, Henry coughs and leans back, queuing me to take the pot away.

I could still make it. I could still get ready in time to join my comrades, but I'm not going to. Henry needs me right now more than they do.

My brothers will still be waiting for me at the monastery some other day.

            I take the chamber pot outside and dump it away from the palace. I use half-frozen well water to rinse it out, and also to clean my sleeve as best I can.

Now I take the ice from the well bucket and carry it with me in the empty pot.

I use this to cool down the water in the kettle, also to wrap up with the herbs for Henry's head.

I can't help but think that a maid could be doing this. This is nothing Rosa couldn't handle, and then I could be on my way to Grenwich right now.

When I take cold cloth over to him however, I notice something that makes me think twice about this.

There's a bloodstain on Henry's pillow, and a stream of it trickling down from his ear.

I lean over to look at his other side and sure enough, there's blood leaking from that ear too.

This illness of his is getting downright creative now.

I wonder, could this have something to do with his headache? His ears are a part of his head, after all.

I just hope it's nothing that needs taking care of because I have no idea how I would go about that. The best thing I can think to do is to fold up a towel from the basin stand and place it under his head. 

Afterward, I place the cold cloth on top and I can tell Henry's trying his best to lie still but the pain is just so overwhelming for him.

I give it a few minutes, but my treatment doesn't seem to be making a difference.

He's restless. He's miserable. If anything, he's worse than before. At least he was talking then, but now he twists and writhes in an unsettling silence that's only occasionally broken by a grunt of pain, or a whimper so quiet I almost can't hear it.

It's hard for me to watch him suffer this much, especially knowing there's nothing I can do to help his pain.

I think of one thing I have at my disposal, but I don't want to use it unless it's absolutely necessary.

After watching him struggle for another minute, I decide that it is.

I can't make him endure this any longer.

I open my medical bag and take out a tiny bottle of sleeping drops, the strong kind. 

They're so potent they need only touch one's skin to take affect.

I tell Henry what I'm doing, and am careful not let the liquid touch my own skin as I pour a single drop onto his forehead.

Within seconds his writhing stops. His face relaxes and his breaths stop shaking.

Now with his suffering at bay, I really ought to take care of all the broken glass in here.

            The hardest part of this is picking all of the shards out of the walls. It takes longer even than using a candlelight to make sure I got all of the tiny pieces off the blanket. 

I find other things to do to keep myself busy as the day progresses.

I check on Henry again after a few hours and he hasn't woken up yet. He hasn't even moved.

I find myself checking his pulse a few times throughout the day, just to make sure.

As long as he's not out for a terribly long time I won't concern myself too much. After all, this is better than him suffering.

This is what I tell myself anyway, and still more hours later when I have to change the towel under his head I begin to grow concerned.

It's getting dark outside. I didn't think the drops were supposed to last this long.

Maybe I used them wrong, or used too many? Can one be too many?

It could be that they're only meant to be used on healthy people, and Henry's condition is intensifying their affect. That doesn't sound right though...

            I do nothing, though I probably should, and when I come back to check on him again after a light supper I wish I had.

Henry's sheets are soaked with bloody urine.

Why didn't I think of this possibility sooner?

Of course if I've let him sleep since this morning, what did I think would happen?

I should've known better. It's my fault, and now it's my responsibility to take care of it.

            I find a wooden bathtub in a closet downstairs. It's a little on the small side, but this isn't an issue.

I'm just glad none of my comrades are back from the mission yet, and that the ones that are still here don't happen to see me dragging the tub upstairs. They have good enough imaginations, I think they could fill in the blanks here.

I start up the fire in Henry's room again and place the tub in front of it.

I have to fill it with the well water from outside, which is rather time-consuming. I guess the good part about it though is that by the time I've finished the water's already warmed up.

Now for the hard part.

            First I try saying Henry's name, but this doesn't work.

I shake him lightly, and he doesn't so much as stir.

I try for another minute to wake him, but to no avail.

This is when it hits me, and I feel stupid for not remembering sooner.

The sleeping drops will wear off on their own eventually, but in the meantime the only thing that can counter the affect is a specific antidote.

I take out a similarly sized bottle to the sleeping drops. I have to be careful with this too, as the affect can be even worse than the very thing it's an antidote for.

With a single droplet on his forehead, Henry stirs within seconds.

He opens his eyes and looks up at me, first with confusion, and now with horror at the realization of why I woke him. 

He looks down at himself and squeezes his eyes shut as if not wanting to believe what's happened.

I know the feeling.

            "It's okay Henry, it's not your fault. You were in too deep a sleep. I should've woken you sooner, I'm sorry."

            He shakes his head, eyes still shut and buries his reddening face in his hands.

            "Come on." I touch his shoulder. "I have a bath ready for you."

            He hesitates to get up. He won't look at me and doesn't say a word, but at least he's able to bathe himself without needing help.

This leaves me free to change his bed sheets, thankful for the cover of darkness as I take the soiled linens out to the laundry room.

They're a quick enough wash using Maribelle's method, especially since the blood is still wet.

I hang them in front of a small fire to keep them from freezing solid, and I go back inside.

            Henry looks away the second I enter his room again.

I remake his bed and find him a towel so he can get out of the bath.

He finds his own clothes and dresses himself in silence.

I turn away, but not before I notice the way he's avoiding turning his back to me, the exact opposite of what most people would do.

I'd think it odd if I didn't know what the reason likely is, and that's his scars.

He's ashamed of them.

It only goes to confirm what I already thought, that he doesn't remember me seeing them before. 

I hear Henry stumble, and turn to see him catching himself on the wall.

It doesn't surprise me that he's lightheaded. He's lost a considerable amount of blood and hasn't eaten a morsel all day.

I offer him a hand but he refuses it, clumsily making his own way to the bed and settling on the edge of it.

It's strange to see him so embarrassed like this, or embarrassed at all. It's rather uncharacteristic for him, but understandable nonetheless.

            He seems to want a bit of solitude right now, before I go though I ask if I can get him anything.

            He shakes his head, but as I turn away he says, "Wait."

            I look back at him.

            "I don't..." He sighs. "I don't want to be left alone right now."

            I can't say I blame him. After all, it seems like every time I leave his side something goes wrong.

If I were him, I don't think I'd want to be left alone either.

I say nothing, sitting down in a chair by the wall.

He doesn't speak either, and so the two of us sit in an uneasy silence for the longest time.

I wish I could make him understand that he doesn't have to be so ashamed of something so out of his control. It could certainly help to make this situation less awkward. 

I don't want there to be any tension between us, not when I'm the only person who hasn't given up on him.

            "It really is okay, Henry." This is my second attempt to convince him of this, and for a second time he doesn't respond.

            I do think of one thing I could say that might break the ice, but I hesitate.

I hesitate because it's absolutely humiliating. Given the circumstances though, that in itself might be all the more reason to say it.

If it means helping him feel better, it's likely worth it.

He's dying. Who is he going to tell?

            I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing but my dignity.

"I know what it's like."

            This gets him to lift his head a bit.

            I don't want to keep talking, but I know that I have to, for Henry's sake.

"I've had the same thing happen to me."

            Henry lifts his head up all the way and gives a smile more bitter than I knew one could be. "Sure, when you were a little kid and you didn't know any better."

He sways a bit from moving his head too fast.

            "Easy there."

I want nothing more than to be able to agree with him right now, but it would both be a lie and defeat the purpose of this.

"You're wrong, I wasn't... a little kid." I take another deep breath.

I've never told anyone this before. I probably should've just kept my mouth shut, but it's too late to back out now.

"I... used to wet the bed almost every night for over a month... when I was thirteen years old."

            Henry's expression softens, but he quickly narrows his eyes. "No you didn't. You just want me to think you did so I'll be more comfortable around you right now."

            "I would like that, Henry, but I'm telling the truth. I was thirteen years old when- when I..." I can't bring myself to say it.

My face is flushed and my voice is shaking.

I clear my throat, deciding to try a different approach.

"Have you ever wondered why my voice is so soft?"

            Henry bites his lip and looks away.

            "It's okay. I know that I don't sound like most men, and there's a reason for that. It's because-" I drop my gaze, no longer able to look at his face.

"...Because I was castrated. I'm a eunuch, Henry."

            The silence that follows my confession is excruciating.

What sorts of thoughts are going through his mind?

I might have a better chance of guessing this if I could bring myself to look at him, but I'm too embarrassed now.

            Henry finally breaks the silence. "So that's what made you...?" He doesn't finish his sentence, but he doesn't have to. I know what he's referring to.

            "Indirectly, yes.

I don't want to give him the explanation, but after telling him this much I kind of have to.

Besides, after everything he's shared with me, voluntarily and not so voluntarily, a part of me feels I owe it to him.

"They used a sort of numbing spell when they- well, you know." Once again my cheeks grow warm.

"It didn't actually help with the pain because it didn't work properly. Instead of numbing the um, area it was supposed to, it just made me lose all feeling in my bladder. The affect lasted so much longer than it should've, and sometimes I wondered if it would ever wear off. I hated the feeling of being so out of control. Oftentimes all it would take to make me wet myself was a cough or a sneeze, or even a laugh. Sometimes it was just the sound of running water, or nothing at all."

I shake my head with the memory of a certain waterfall I had to walk past everyday in the monastery.

"Those were the most humiliating few weeks of my life. It seemed like every time I thought I was getting a little bit better I would have another accident, often in front of other people." I tug on a lock of my hair, a nervous habit I'd thought long gone.

"My brothers were understanding and kind, but that didn't make me feel any less ashamed. I began to wonder if maybe the gods were punishing me for some sin I'd forgotten to repent for. I realize now how silly that was, but at the time it seemed perfectly reasonable." I smile, though I feel like I should cringe.

"Eventually, after a time that seemed much longer than it was I did get better. But though the problem may have gone away, the memories of it will never leave me."

It's hard for me to keep talking about this, but I force myself to.

I'm already in this far, I might as well make my point.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, Henry, is that I do know what it's like. While I can't begin to imagine what you're going through as a whole, I can at least relate to parts of it, probably better than most people. I promise I'm not here to judge you or to make you uncomfortable. I only wish to make things easier for you, in any way that I can."

            Henry says nothing. He just stares at the floor.

I wait for him to say something, anything, growing more anxious by the second.

...

I should've known this was a bad idea.

What was I thinking? That embarrassing myself would somehow make Henry feel better?

I shouldn't have said anything. All I've succeeded in doing is alienating the very person I'm trying to help.

I should've left when I thought that he wanted me to.

I should leave now and save myself from further humiliation.

Please gods, let him at least have the decency to keep my secret.

            I stand up and turn to leave, but pause when Henry finally says something.

            "So... If you're castrated, does that mean you can't have sex?"

            I almost laugh.

Is that really the biggest question on his mind right now?

            I shake my head, unable to suppress a smile. "Not even if I wanted to."

Not in the traditional way, anyhow.

            Henry stares at me for over a minute before he shakes his own head. "I'm sorry, but as a non-eunuch I just can't understand why anyone would have that done to them."

            "There are reasons." I deem it best to leave it at that.

            He shrugs. "Sure, but are they good enough reasons?"

            "Goodnight, Henry."


	10. Just in Case

            I think Henry's asleep when I check on him the next morning, that is until I hear him whimper.

            "Henry?"

I push the door open further and step into his room.

            He's laying on top of all the blankets with his back to me, elbow sticking up above his side.

            "Are you alright?" I keep my voice lowered, even though I doubt he's sleeping.

            All I get from him is a sharp gasp and a strangled whine.

There's my answer.

I don't force him to move, afraid of making whatever the problem is worse. Instead, I place a hand on his shoulder and gently encourage him to turn onto his back.

He does so with a moan and his head still turned away.

As expected, he's holding his side, but I'm not sure that's the only problem here.

            "Can you look at me, please?"

            He gives his head a little shake.

I sigh and shift my attention instead to his side before I realize he wasn't shaking his head, just hesitating to turn it.

He squints up at me with what looks like a great big smile, but I know better.

I know it's a grimace, but this fact isn't the one that concerns me most at the moment.

I'm more worried by the tears on his cheeks, the ones made of blood.

            "...H-hurts," he croaks.

            "Where does it hurt?"

            He just groans in response.

            I take a short breath. I have to remain calm.

"Can you show me?"

            He lifts one of his hands from his side and, locking his gaze with mine, he touches his forehead.

Now he moves it to his throat and drags his fingertips all the way down to his chest, where he clutches his shirt with a raspy breath.

He places his whole hand flat on his stomach, and it lingers there a moment before he slides it back down to rest on his side.

So he's hurting basically everywhere of importance. Good to know.

            While it isn't the most vital of the places Henry pointed out, his side is the one that has me the most worried. I persuade him to move his hands away long enough that I can take a look.

He's not bleeding internally as I feared he might be, but I almost think that would be a better alternative than this because this...

It leaves me without words.

The web of blackened blood vessels beneath his skin has spread to over half of his abdomen, stretching all the way past the other side of his navel and up as far as his well-defined ribs.

It looks worst at the center, where it all began quite in the literal sense. Henry's scar is like an ugly black gash on his pale skin, enshrouded by the thickest point of the whole mess. Here his blood vessels bulge out in wavy black lines, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

It's no wonder he keeps wanting to put pressure on it; it's almost painful just to look at.

I pull his shirt back down and let him continue doing just that as I examine the other areas. I feel nothing abnormal about his stomach, although it is sunken in quite a bit.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he ate something? Wasn't it two days ago?

That's a long time, and even then he only had broth which I'm not sure actually counts. 

I'll have to offer him some food later, but right now I'm more concerned by his arrhythmic heartbeat. I can't even think what might be causing this.

He does have a bit of a temperature, which combined with his dry cracked lips might explain his head hurting, but not this.

This is something I might have to call the doctor for.

            "I have to go, but I'll be right back, okay?"

            Henry reaches after me as I leave.

I assure him I won't be long and keep walking.

I find Rosa down in the great hall, along with all of the Shepherds who are down here eating breakfast. I ask her to summon the doctor to Henry's room as soon as possible.

Now I pick up a pitcher of water and a clean glass from one of the empty tables, but as I turn to leave someone behind me calls my name.

I look back to see Frederick waving me over to his table. I set the two items down and go to see what he wants.

            He leans back on the bench to look at me as I approach him. "Is there a reason you're not eating with us?"

            "I'm not hungry, sir." Not with the image of Henry's side fresh in my mind at least.

            He narrows his eyes, but doesn't question me. "All right, but you really ought to keep your strength up. You know we have training today, starting at noon sharp."

I didn't know that. I also don't know if I'll be able to make it.

            "At the risk of sounding like I'm excusing myself sir, Henry is in a rather dire state at the moment. I'm just not sure if I should risk leaving-"

            "This palace has a physician, does it not?" He raises an eyebrow.

            "Indeed, and I've already asked Rosa to call for him, but-"

            "I don't imagine there's anything you can do for the lad that the royal doctor isn't capable of."

            I wish I shared his confidence. In truth, I don't even know if the doctor will be able to help at all. There might be nothing he can do, or Henry might just be too uncomfortable with him to let him do anything. I think about how long it's taken him to even start warming up to me.

Those aren't even my only concerns, but I know all too well that any reason I express to Frederick for wanting to skip training, regardless of validity, will be taken as an excuse and nothing more.

            I don't argue with the knight, as that would accomplish nothing and keep me away from an already anxious Henry even longer.

I simply say, "Well, you never know," and walk away before he can say anything more.

            I take the water upstairs to Henry.

I open the door to see him curled forward on the bed, squeezing his side and sobbing.

            "Henry!"

I set the pitcher down to keep from dropping it as I rush to his side.

            I struggle to remain calm as Henry cries out, tears of blood streaming down his face and dripping onto his shirt.

I'm not sure what to do because his pain is coming from the venom inside him. How am I supposed to fix that?

I may not be able to fix it, but I can try to make it more bearable.

            "Hold on, Henry. I'm going to get you something that'll help."

            He doesn't acknowledge me, and frankly I'm not surprised.

            I set my medical bag on the foot of his bed. Bottles and vials clatter together as I dig through them looking for a painkiller of some kind.

I take out the strongest one I have, one I thought about giving him yesterday. The only reason I didn't is because it's known to worsen nausea and he was already vomiting. It should work to use it now though, at least I hope it will because there are no better options.

I give him a single dose, and watch to see how it affects him. 

Ten minutes later, I do notice some improvement. If nothing else he's more relaxed, lying on his back once again and breathing more evenly.

I wet a handkerchief and wipe the bloody tear streaks off his face.

I think he might be starting to fall asleep when there's a quick knock at the door, which opens before I can even call out an answer.

I see familiar blue and scarlet robes, a brown medical bag and the balding head of the doctor as he enters the room.

            He heaves a sigh, setting his bag down on the chair by the wall. "Well, what seems to be the trouble here?"

            Henry's fully alert now, his bloody eyes following the old man around the room.

            "There are a couple of things, actually. Henry here is having an arrhythmic heartbeat that I was hoping you might be able to tell me the cause for. Also, I'd like to hear your opinion about the state of his side."

            "His side?"

            I nod. "The one you operated on."

             "Ah, so the bleeding's started again, has it?" He steps up to Henry's bed right next to me, obliviously invading my personal space.

            I take a step back, crossing my arms. "No. It's a different affect of the same cause, I'm afraid. The blackened blood vessels of his you saw the other night, well they've sort of-"

            He cuts me off. "Why don't I just take a look, hm?"

            Though I think the arrhythmia is a more pressing issue, I say nothing. He is the doctor, after all.

The old man leans over Henry and begins to pry one of his hands from his side.

Henry groans in protest, but the doctor is persistent. 

            "Come on now boy. Let me see what the problem is, won't you?" He grunts, pulling one of Henry's hands away and holding it by the wrist.

            Henry doesn't like this one bit, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint.

            I notice this right away, and intervene before he can do anything regrettable. "Henry, I know it hurts, but this man is here to help you and you have to let him."

            He seems to relax just a little, at least enough that he stops trying to yank his wrist away. And with a deep, raspy breath he moves the other hand himself, gripping the blanket at his side.

As the doctor releases his wrist, it bothers me to see white marks in the shapes of his fingers.

Did he really feel in necessary to use so much force?

He pulls up Henry's shirt and I think I hear a crackling from somewhere. This doesn't make sense though; it's probably just my imagination.

Henry flinches at his touch and squeezes his eyes shut.

            The doctor runs his fingers along one of the blood vessels with a "Hm..."

After a moment he stands up straight, and goes and gets a little dish out of his bag.

What could he need that for? Maybe he has some herbs in his other hand that he intends to grind. I don't see how that would be of much help, but he is the doctor.

            The crackling starts up again as he re-approaches Henry. It's unmistakable this time, though I can't quite tell where it's coming from.

He touches Henry's side again, and I only realize what he's doing after it's too late.

Henry cries out, and the crackling grows to a roar as the fireplace on the other end of the room bursts into blazing violet flames.

It's only now that I see the thin red line on Henry's skin.

It wasn't herbs the doctor had in his other hand, it was a lancet.

            "What are you doing?!"

            He looks up at me, seeming annoyed. "It's called bloodletting, Miss. The lad's humours are clearly out of balance, and that's what's causing his discoloration and his pain."

            I push him away from Henry for his own safety. "Right now, you're causing his pain. Bloodletting is not the solution to this. Henry's been bleeding out of every orifice in turn for days on end. If that was what he needed, he'd be cured already."

            He raises a wiry eyebrow. "Are you questioning my judgement?"

            I don't even care how rude this sounds, not after what he just did to Henry.

"Yes, I am. You didn't learn the full extent of the situation before you made a diagnosis, and an incorrect one at that. Henry's problem isn't his 'humours,' he's been poisoned. And if you had taken the time to ask me even the most basic of questions before going ahead and treating him you would've known that."

            He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, turning way from me and muttering. "This is exactly whey women shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine. They're too damned irrational to even understand the basic fundamentals."

            I am no woman, but this still angers me.

I think of the countless number of lives that've been saved between Lissa and Maribelle alone, all of the tactical decisions Robin's made to bring us to victory in battle. Heck, the most rational mind out of all of the Shepherds belongs to Miriel, a woman. 

It doesn't matter that I'm not one of them, for him to say that about women is still so unfair.

            "Please leave."

            He looks taken aback. "What?"

            "You heard me. I'm sorry I've wasted your time, Doctor, but clearly there's nothing you can do to help here."

             He opens his mouth, closes it, and now opens it again. "You know what? You're right. There is nothing I can do for this boy. With a poison of the potency to do a thing like this to his blood vessels, why it's a wonder he's even lived this long. I hope you're not counting on him sticking around much longer, because I wouldn't guess he has more than a day left in this world."

I know I've offended him, but did he really have to say that in front of Henry? He doesn't need to hear that kind of talk, and neither do I for that matter.

            Before the doctor can continue on that thought, I pick his dish up off the bed and hand it to him, pointing to the door.

            He raises his other hand, still holding the bloodied lancet. "I'm going already."

On his way out the door, however, he stops. "Actually, now that I think about it I suppose there is one thing I can do for the boy. When his pain becomes too much for your conscience to bear, call me and I can put him out of his misery for you."

Why? Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to say any of those things? Why did I even ask him here in the first place?

That was so unprofessional of him. I have to wonder how a person like that can even come to have a position like his. I doubt he ever talks like that to any of the royal family, or else he'd be out of a job.

             The violet fire dies down as I push the door shut. 

I wonder if the burst of flames had to do with Henry's pain so much as his anxiety. He doesn't seem to like doctors much, at least not that one. 

            As I walk back over to him I shake my head with a sigh. "Henry..."

I don't know what to even say. 

            "It's okay." He runs a finger along his cut and holds it up to look at the blood. "I already knew."

            I still can't find the words to express the regret I feel right now, so I just settle for, "I'm sorry."

            I clean up Henry's cut so he'll stop playing with the blood. There's quite a bit of it, and if I hadn't stopped the doctor when I did there'd be even more because he'd started to cut into a blood vessel.

As I soak it up with some gauze, I notice something interesting. Right on the edge of the punctured vessel, Henry's blood is coming out black.

That... might actually be a good thing. I imagine it would be beneficial to get some of that infected blood out of his system, though this can't be the best way to. If I were to let this keep going Henry would only end up losing more good blood than bad.

Even if there was a way to drain out just the black stuff, it would likely be a long and excruciating process that I don't think I could ever subject him to

I dress Henry's wound, and as I pull his shirt down the fire goes out completely.

He's still suffering, but at least he seems calmer.

Now might be a good time to try giving him some of that water.

            I have to hold the glass for him, and he won't take more than a couple sips at a time but it's better than nothing.

When Henry's drank as much as I can get him to, about half the glass, I check his pulse again and am gratified to find that his heartbeat is more normal. I didn't think of it before, but I remember now that dehydration can cause heart arrhythmia.

I breathe easy for the first time all day, taking a seat in the wall chair and watching Henry rest.

So he really didn't need the doctor after all, not even for that. I wish I hadn't called him in the first place, then he wouldn't have had the chance to make those awful comments in front of Henry.

It probably bothers me more than it should, but I was already worried enough about his mental state as it was. I think it might actually be more than that though. I think a part of me doesn't want to accept the fact that Henry really is dying, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I just don't like feeling so... hopeless.

In attempt to put my mind at ease, I begin to say a silent prayer. That is I start to, but I'm soon interrupted by the sound of Henry coughing.

I jump to my feet and take the towel off of Henry's pillow without stopping to think about it because I just know. 

I know he's coughing up blood before I even look at him, but as it begins to soak through the towel this isn't what concerns me most.

It's the fact that it's black.

I don't know whether to see this as a good sign or a bad one. I at least think it's a good thing for his body to be ridding itself of this, but the fact that it's gotten into his lungs isn't promising of anything except that his illness is continuing to worsen.

I turn him on his side, trying to get him to relax so he doesn't make himself vomit.

This is when there's another knock at the door.

I glance back as it opens to see Frederick standing there.

Can it be noon already?

            "Pray, tell me why are you not getting ready to train?"

            I sigh, wiping Henry's mouth off as his coughing ceases. "I'm needed here."

            "Where you're needed is in the training yard. The lad will still be here when you get back."

            I turn to face Frederick, the soaked towel in my hand.

I can't bring myself to say what I'm thinking, that while Henry would indeed still be here, there's no guarantee that he would still be alive.

            The look on the knight's face when he lays eyes on the towel however, makes me think he might already get this message.

            Relieved, if still a bit wary, I repeat myself. "I'm needed here."

            He seems to understand, but I think he feels it his duty to say, "You can't afford to be neglectful of your training, especially in the midst of a war like this one. Don't forget that."

            I nod, waiting for him to say something else but he leaves.

            I should take care of this towel, but I'm afraid to leave Henry alone right now. For the time being I set it by the door, on top of a clean one to keep the blood from soaking into the floorboards.

I coax Henry to drink the rest of the water in the glass, but I can't convince him to eat anything, not even broth.

His reason for refusal becomes apparent when he uses the chamber pot and produces nothing but dark-colored liquid.

It's more than a little concerning, but I can at least be thankful that this room doesn't look out onto any courtyards as I dump this out the window.

I've only just finished rinsing it out when there's yet another knock at the door.

I must've misinterpreted Frederick's expression earlier. He didn't understand the seriousness of the situation and now he's coming to make me train after all.

            "Not right now, Frederick."

            "Of all the thing's I've been called in my life, I must say that is a new one." The muffled voice on the other side of the door doesn't belong to the Ylissean knight, but to a Valmese nobleman.

            I turn toward the door, still holding the chamber pot. "Virion? You can open the door."

            He does as he's told and meets my gaze with an amused grin.

            "What are you doing here," I ask. "I thought you were supposed to be training."

            "I believe the consequences of ignoring one trivial order to be greatly outweighed by your needs, Libra. And right now you look like you need someone to help you more than you need that someone to be training."

            Out of all of the Shepherds, Virion seems to enjoy training more than most because it gives him a chance to shamelessly show off his archery skills. That he would miss a session for my sake surprises me, but is appreciated nonetheless.

            "Well you're right about that part at least. Please, come in."

With him in here, I can actually take care of the bloody towel without having to leave Henry alone.

I instruct Virion on how to watch over him in my absence.

"...And if you can't get the chamber pot in time, pull him over the edge. It's better his vomit get on the floor than the bed. Have you got all that?"

            With a nervous smile, Virion nods. "I believe so, yes."

He seems apprehensive, but if I was anticipating any serious problems I wouldn't ask this of him because I wouldn't be leaving in the first place. Him being here just gives me more peace of mind about what I was already going to do.

            "Thank you for doing this." I return his smile, though a bit more assuredly than him, and pick up the towel on my way out of the room.

            I come back with an armload of now-dry linens from the laundry room.

I'm mentally prepared for the worst case scenario, but open the door to find quite the opposite.

Henry's sitting upright and smiling, not in pain but in amusement as a flustered Virion tries to explain to him what a cravat is.

            "It s-sure looks like a bib to me."

That's the clearest his voice has sounded all day.

            Virion sighs. "Tell me, have you ever seen a bib so ornate as to be crafted from the finest of silks, and not only pleated to perfection but also intricately belaced?"

            Henry nods and points at his cravat, causing the nobleman to go red in the face. 

            "It's not a bib, I tell you!"

            With a slight smile, I walk further into the room and set the linens down in front of the dresser.

Seeing no need to interrupt their debate, I begin to fold one of the sheets with my back to them.

Henry gives a laugh which soon turns to a cough, and now a gag.

I turn around just in time to see him vomit on the floor, with Virion holding him over the edge like I told him to.

I'm careful not to step in the red puddle as I hold the chamber pot underneath Henry's face.

He retches again, and Virion maintains his grip on his shoulders.

It surprises me that he's still helping, as his own face has gone rather pale at the sight of the bloody mess.

I know he's squeamish about this sort of thing, so I take over supporting Henry and tell him he can leave.

He hesitates, but also seems grateful as he makes a beeline for the door.

            Henry gasps and coughs as I help him back down onto the bed. "Easy now. Breathe, breathe."

            This makes two days in a row now that this has happened. I don't know how much more blood his body can afford to lose, but I don't imagine it's much.

I don't feel good about leaving him long enough to dump the blood somewhere it won't be seen, instead resorting to the window.

I feel anxious when I open up the basin stand and realize there are no more towels to clean up his vomit with. I start to think that I might have to leave him after all when I hear footsteps enter the room.

I look up to see a whole stack of towels being carried by Virion, along with a bucket of water and a scrub brush.

My hero.

            Despite the fact that he can't bring himself to look at the blood, Virion still offers to clean it up for me. 

I tell him that he's done plenty and he doesn't argue, yet still remains in the room for the entire time it takes me to finish the job.

            I turn to him after washing off my hands. "You don't have to stay in here, you know."

            To this, the nobleman shakes his head. "My dear man, I came here to help you, and help you I will until I feel my services are no longer required."

            "You could be doing anything right now instead of being in here dealing with something I know bothers you."

            "Ah, but don't you see? I would be bothered even more than this, er, ordeal by the guilt of letting you be up here all by yourself to deal with it."

            I don't know what to say to that. I suspect his motives might go a bit deeper than mere pity, but I won't question them, at least not in front of Henry.

Instead, I thank him for all he's done and tell him it's been more than satisfactory. And when he still doesn't leave I point out that Henry seems to want to rest, and that there's nothing more for him to help with.

It's not that I dislike him being in here, but the guilt goes both ways in that I don't want to keep him here for no reason when there are other things I know he'd rather be doing.

            Alone with Henry once again, I settle back down in the chair and watch him try to sleep.

This doesn't go so well for him. He's in too much pain to let himself relax, and with him having vomited I'm afraid another dose of that potion would do more harm than good.

Considering the possibility of him having dehydration cramps, I try giving him some more water but he can't keep it down.

I try again, mixing it with some stomach-soothing herbs but this doesn't work either.

I don't want to give up on the issue, but I also don't want to add to his suffering any more, so I shift my focus instead to helping with this.

I try a different painkilling potion, a variety of topical herbs, salve, extract oils, heat, cold, but nothing I do seems to make a difference.

I don't think I've ever seen anyone so miserable. Yesterday his pain was bad, but it didn't make his body convulse or bring him to bloody tears. 

I'm a little afraid to use the sleeping tonic on him again, but I will if I have to. I'm beginning to seriously consider it when he at last drifts into a natural, if a bit restless sleep.

I watch him for a little while, only now realizing that Henry isn't the only one who hasn't eaten all day.

I'm famished, and while I'm still apprehensive about leaving him alone I can't think of a better time to.

I won't be long.

            I go downstairs to get something to eat, and find that my comrades are already in the great hall doing just this, or at least finishing with it.

Nearly everyone looks up at me as I walk past them, their conversations dying down to create an uneasy silence.

I ignore them, sitting down at one of the tables that still has food on it. I say a silent thanks to Naga and pick up a piece of bread.

            "By gods, you look terrible. Are you alright?"

I look up to see Robin sitting across from me, her brow knotted in concern.

            I give her the closest thing to a smile I can manage. "I'm fine, just a little tired is all."

            "You look more than just tired. Are you sure-" She pauses, eyes widening. "You have blood on your sleeve."

            I glance down at my arm.

So I do.

            "Oh, don't worry about that. It's nothing that hasn't been taken care of."

            She crosses her arms and watches me pour myself a glass of water. "...Right. Well don't you think you might be working yourself too hard? I mean everyone needs a break from time to time."

            "I'm taking one right now."

            She shakes her head. "I mean a real break, not just a meal break."

Is there a difference?

            I attempt another smile, though whether successfully or not I'm unsure. "I appreciate your concern, but I really am okay."

            She doesn't seem convinced, but also doesn't keep pushing the issue, letting me finish my meal in peace.

            When I go back up to Henry's room, I'm glad to see that he's still sleeping. His slumber may be nowhere near peaceful, but anything is better than him being awake and suffering right now.

 _Even death?_ I find myself wondering.

I feel like this sudden thought should disturb me, but instead I'm seriously contemplating the answer to it, and what I come up with is ultimately more disturbing than the question itself.

I recall the doctor's words from this morning. I want anything more than to believe him, but what if he's right? If Henry is subject to suffer nothing but agony until his increasingly likely-seeming death, then wouldn't it be less than humane to delay the end to his misery?

            I watch him turn over in his sleep, moaning from a pain he's not conscious of.

I watch him sleep until the sky outside grows dark, trying to make sense of these disturbing thoughts.

I'm not sure how long it's been when Henry stirs awake, only that it hasn't been nearly long enough. 

            "...Libra? S-still there?"

            I pull the chair up beside his bed and take his hand. "Yeah, Henry. I'm still here."

            A couple of red tears fall from his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling. "Do you think you could stay... j-just a little longer?"

            "I'm not going anywhere."

How can I?

How can I even think about leaving him like this?

            Henry calms down at my touch and returns my grip until he falls back to sleep and his hand relaxes.

I feel terrible for having even entertained the thought of giving up on him, even if my intentions were pure.

I've stuck with him this long, and I intend to see this ordeal through to the end, no matter how long or hard it may be. Henry deserves that much at least, everyone does.

I don't know how close he is to this, but I stay with him in his room tonight, just in case.


	11. Safe Then Sorry

            "Hold on Henry. Just try to relax, okay?"

            Henry at least seems to attempt this, forcing a couple of deep breaths into his wheezing lungs. He can't keep it up for long though before he jerks forward so hard his back lifts up off the bed and he howls in pain.

He woke up like this, or at least woke me up like this. I imagine I wasn't the only one either, but right now that's the least of my worries.

            He's really struggling, so much that I'm concerned he might lose control of his magic again, but as of yet this hasn't been an issue.

This is after I've given him all the painkilling potion I deem it safe to put into his body. Nothing I do seems to make any difference. I'm not even sure that Henry can understand what I'm saying because he won't respond to a word. He's only spoken once all morning, when I asked him where his pain was the worst. I couldn't understand him though because I'm pretty sure it was in Plegian. Pretty sure.

He just screamed. "Undique!" and then "Dolet undique!" over and over until his voice became incoherent through his sobbing.

            I feel so useless just standing here and watching him suffer, but what can I do?

Clearly I was wrong yesterday when I thought Henry's pain couldn't get any worse, because the potion at least helped him then. Now, if it doesn't start working pretty quick I fear I might have to resort to more drastic means.

Putting Henry to sleep does seem a bit counterproductive considering he just woke up, also I fear the state he's in puts him at a greater risk for side affects. 

I don't want to do it if I don't have to, and so I'll put it off for as long as my sense of morality will let me. It may well end up being my only option though.

I'll just have to wait and see...

            Henry has a nosebleed that starts so suddenly it gets all over his shirt before I can grab him a handkerchief.

I sit him upright and pull his head forward, pressing the cloth tight to his face.

It turns out to be a good thing I left a towel on his pillow last night because the handkerchief doesn't last very long.

I start to get anxious when the blood seeps through this too.

Thankfully the bleeding stops before the towel becomes completely soaked, but not before it indirectly causes another problem.

Having to sit upright is torturous for Henry. I can tell he's trying hard to suppress them, but the occasional cry of pain does escape his lips.

            "Just a little bit longer," I tell him.

            I'm concerned that some of his noises are loud enough to disturb my sleeping comrades, but I really am almost done. I only have to change his shirt and then he can lie back down.

It's while starting to do this that I hear a knock at the door.

            "It's not a good time," I call out, but the door swings open anyway.

            "Would you mind telling me what all this noise is about?"

It's Frederick. I knew before he even said a word.

            I don't look back at him, instead finishing pulling Henry's shirt off over his head.

            Frederick takes my lack of response as his queue to continue. "Do you know that I've heard four complaints about it this morning? Four. And one of them was from a servant." I hear something sliding against fabric and take a guess that Frederick's crossing his arms. 

"That boy is disturbing the peace. If you can't keep him quiet, I'm afraid he'll have to be moved elsewhere."

            I help the wincing mage lean back against the headboard with a sigh. "I really don't think that would be a good idea."

            Henry tries and fails to suppress a whine.

            "Well I didn't think it was a good idea to bring him here in the first place. Honestly I never thought I'd see the day that a Plegian dog would be staying at an Ylissean palace as a guest and not a prisoner, but sure enough here he is." He seems to be forgetting that Henry isn't the only Plegian in the army, and that Robin herself is one of them.

He doesn't seem to care though as he continues. "You don't hear me complaining though, so neither should you. Instead of stubbornly refusing to move him someplace like the infirmary, which is where he really ought to be, you should be thankful that he's even here in the first place and that I didn't persuade Milord Chrom to leave him back at the border outpost." He takes a short pause and sniffs.

"Although as much time and effort you've sacrificed for the boy thus far, perhaps the latter scenario is the one that would really merit your thanks."

            I turn around with Henry's bloody shirt in my hand.

I was trying to keep it out of Frederick's sight for the sake of decency, but I can't set it down without the blood soaking through to the other side, and besides at this point I really don't care what he sees. Maybe it'll even help him understand, if somehow he already doesn't, that this is something to be taken seriously.

            "Do you really believe that? After the glimpses you've seen of Henry's illness, can you truly delude yourself into thinking that leaving him to suffer through it in solitude would've been best for everyone? He's a member of this army too, as much a part of it as I am, and he deserves better than that. It's not as I'm asking you to sacrifice anything on his behalf, save for maybe a shred of patience. If I were, things would be different, but the only one who's giving anything up right now is me. That's my choice, and one I make gladly if it means saving Henry from the fate you would condemn him to. He is absolutely worth that much, and for you to suggest anything otherwise is nothing short of insensitive."

            Frederick says nothing.

I've crossed a line. I didn't even call him 'sir,' and that's the best of the mistakes I just made.

I should apologize, but for some reason I can't bring myself to.

It's strange. I've never had a hard time apologizing to anyone before, even as a child, but this is different somehow.

I just stand here staring at him, unable to make my mouth form the words.

            Despite my disrespect to him though, Frederick's frown actually lessens. No longer are his eyebrows furrowed, but turned up in genuine concern.

Could what I said really have had an affect on him?

If so, then it wasn't the only contributor because he's not even looking at me.

He's looking at Henry, or rather at Henry's bare abdomen.

I didn't realize when I turned around that I was no longer blocking Frederick's view of him. Now the knight stares slack-jawed and wide-eyed at the black web that spreads over most of his torso.

Henry turns his head towards him and attempts a feeble smile, red tear streaks staining his pale face.

            "I h-h-" Frederick stammers. "I have to go- er, excuse me."

He slams the door shut on his way out, his footsteps fast and fading.

            That was abrupt.

I glance at Henry once more before going to get a spare shirt from his pack. 

I can see why Frederick looked so alarmed; his torso does look bad, worse than it has so far. I imagine it would be pretty scary to someone who's not used to seeing it.

It seems like a bad thing to wish for, but I almost hope that Henry isn't fully lucid right now, so that he wouldn't remember anything Frederick just said.

I believe that he means well, but he can be quite harsh at times.

 

            I helped to deliver an infant once. It was an extreme situation in which I was the closest thing there to a doctor. The memory of that mother's screams have for years been the basis for my idea of how much pain a human is capable of feeling.

This is no longer the case. This basis has been surpassed by Henry, far surpassed.

His screams aren't constant, or even frequent, but they are terrible to listen to. Such raw and intense expression of pain I never thought possible before now.

I was ready to put him to sleep nearly an hour ago, but his nosebleed started again and I haven't been able to stop it since.

I have him lying on his side because he can't bear to sit upright, and I'm waiting, just waiting. Any minute now this'll stop, it has to.

Henry lets out a long, low moan.

That's it. I can't make him bear this any longer.

He's too weak to hold the towel himself, so place it under his face while I get the tiny bottle out of my bag.

I'm smart enough to make him urinate first this time, disheartened to see that it's basically just blood.

A minute later he's out cold.

I take a deep breath and slide the chair even closer to his bed, holding the towel once again. I could be here a while.

I hate doing this to him. I can't just keep putting him to sleep every time his pain gets too bad. That's no way for anyone to spend their last days. Then again, it does seem better than the alternative, which is for him to suffer indefinitely until...

Until he dies.

            Henry's nosebleed stops before too long, but I stay with him regardless.

I sit here watching the side of his chest rise and fall, and I don't move an inch until I hear another knock at the door, followed by Virion's voice.

            "May I come in?"

            I look that way over the back of my chair. "Yes."

            The door opens and Virion walks in carrying a tray with two bowls of soup. Steam rolls off of them as he brings the tray over and sets it on the foot of the bed.

It smells heavenly.

            He glances at Henry and lowers his voice to a whisper. "You weren't at breakfast, so I thought you might be getting a bit peckish."

            I rise to my feet and shake my head, not in denial but in disbelief that anyone could be so thoughtful.

Virion seems to think it's the former, as he looks uncertain until I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around him.

He's stiff, but quickly relaxes, and ever-so-gently returns my embrace.

I can't remember the last time I hugged someone like this. I think I surprised myself more than I did Virion by doing it.

It's a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one I decide. It's actually quite nice... more so that I would've imagined.

He's much warmer than I am and his shirt smells like mint tea and wood smoke.

            He waits for me to pull away, and when I do he regards me with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow. "I take it you like soup?"

             _I like you._ It shocks me that I almost say this out loud.

Where would a thought like that even come from unless...

Unless it was true.

I think the real question is, would I let myself believe it if it was?

            I don't say what's on my mind, instead saying, "You don't have to whisper. You won't wake him."

            He glances at Henry again and raises his voice, though still not to full volume. "Right, er about that, how long do you think he'll be sleeping for?"

            "Hopefully a while, why?"

            "Oh, it's just that this other bowl was for him. I wasn't sure if he'd want it or not, but I thought it worth the effort."

            That's... impossibly considerate of him.

At this point, I don't care if Virion does have an ulterior motive, I'm just happy he's here.

            I look down at the steaming bowls. "Well, have you eaten yet?"

            "I had a cup of tea. I thought I'd just go back down to get something after I brought these up."

            "Henry's... not likely to want that, even when he wakes up. I wish to the gods I could get him to eat something, but I just don't see it happening."

            Virion looks back and forth between my eyes. "Are you inviting me to have breakfast with you?"

            "It would be a shame to let perfectly good soup go to waste."

            His smile returns. "That it would."

            I sit on the foot of Henry's bed because it would be more awkward for Virion to. He sits instead on the chair which I slide down by me. Even more awkward than sitting on Henry's bed I think would be for Virion to have to eat right by his sleeping face.

There may be another reason I do this too I suspect, though one I'm not so sure about as to even think about it in words.

            We talk about nothing in particular, just making random, insignificant conversation. Normally I would detest this kind of meaningless small talk, but right now it's all I could ask for.

It's nice to have at least a partial break from thinking and worrying about Henry, about everything, and this is exactly what Virion's giving me right now.

We talk for I'm not sure how long, hours probably, though it doesn't feel like it. And not even once in all this time does Virion so much as mention his proposed courtship between us, leading me to believe that he might actually be here because he cares about my well-being. Whether this is the case or not, I'm still grateful for his company.

            At some point during our conversation, Henry moans in his sleep and I snap to attention mid-sentence. I watch him for a moment before realizing he's fine and relaxing again.

When I turn back to Virion, he's looking at me funny.

            "Is something wrong?"

            "Oh no, I was just thinking that Henry here couldn't have asked for a caretaker more attentive than yourself.

            I feel a slight tinge in my cheeks as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

He knows I don't handle flattery well. Although it could be that he thinks if it's true that it isn't flattery so much as-

            "I mean that as a compliment, of course." He folds his hands in his lap. "It's just that I am curious- that is I'm a little concerned- I mean..."

He breathes a flustered sigh.

What is he trying to say?

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but are you sure that this responsibility you've assumed won't prove to be emotionally... devastating?"

He holds up both hands. "It's not that I think you're an overly emotional person, or that you can't handle hardship. Gods know that couldn't be further from the truth. I only mean to say that when Henry is... well, you know, I fear you won't be as okay with everything as you are now." He shakes his head.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt, that's all."

            My eyes shift to the sleeping mage as I answer. "I'm not sure that Henry's... death won't upset me, in fact I know it will. How much it's hard to say, but one thing is for certain: I would be far more devastated if I gave up on him now, when he needs me more than ever. By staying with him until the end, I will at least have a clear conscience knowing that I did all I could for him. That's the only way I'll have any chance of overcoming my grief at his passing." 

I look again at Virion. "Do you understand?"

            He looks at me for a moment and now gives a solemn nod. "I think I do, yes."

Though I believe he really means this, the concern doesn't leave his eyes.

            Ricken comes up here to tell Virion that Frederick wants to see him about training.

I tell him he should go, and he takes the tray and empty bowls with him, assuring me that he'll be back.

I take the opportunity to check on Henry.

His vitals are all okay, except for his temperature. It's a bit high, but no more than what's practically become his norm as of late.

I'll keep it monitored anyway.

I think about waking him to see if his pain level has improved, but if it hasn't then I'd only be hurting him. Also there'd be no guarantee, and actually a slim likelihood that I would be able to make him sleep again.

I'm not willing to take that chance. He stays asleep for now.

            Virion doesn't come back for quite a while, and when he does he looks exhausted.

            I smile at him. "What did Frederick do to you?"

            I was only joking, but the exasperated smile he returns makes me think something might've actually happened.

            "Are you okay?"

            He stands up a bit straighter. "Oh, y-yes of course. I just, er took the stairs a bit fast. Have to stay in shape, you know."

            I give a slow nod, narrowing my eyes. "And that's all?"

            "Well, they are rather large stairs."

They're really not though.

            I say nothing, just "Hm."

            He stands there in the doorway for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say next until he spots the pile of linens in front of the dresser that I've yet to fold, and offers to do the job for me.

I wouldn't make him do that, but I do allow him to help.

            As I bring the corners of one sheet up to the one's in Virion's hands he gives a little smirk.

            "What?"

            "Oh, nothing. It's just that well..." He looks to where our hands are touching. 

"I can't help but wonder if this is the closest I'll ever come to dancing with you."

            I don't blame him for asking this. I actually might've grown suspicious if he'd gone the whole day without saying something along those lines.

I don't mind the comment as much as I would've even just two days ago. On the contrary, I find that I'm actually curious to know that as well.

            I think about giving him the answer that comes the most naturally to me, which is that I don't know. Instead though I smile, and am surprised to hear the words that come out of my mouth. "Friends can dance together too, you know."

            He shakes his head. "Not the kind of dance I'm talking about."

            I don't know how to respond to that.

            Virion's smile fades and he withdraws his hands from mine. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

            I lower my own two corners of the sheet. "It's okay."

            "No, it's not. I promised that I wouldn't pressure you into anything, and I've every intention of holding true to my word."

            It actually is okay in this situation, but still I appreciate his respectfulness.

I'm unused to being treated with such consideration by anyone, even those I'm closest to. Most of them aren't aware that I have certain... issues, so it's not their fault. Out of the few who do though, Virion has proven to be the most conscientious about them by far.

I thank him for this, and we finish the folding in silence.

            I check on Henry again.

He's a little warmer than before, but still not enough to be worrying. Just as a precaution, I soak a cloth in cool water and place it on his forehead. 

Better safe than sorry.

            The tension between Virion and me after the linen incident doesn't go away on its own, not even when he brings up some food for a late lunch.

He attempts to lighten the mood with a bit of humor, but I find it hard to laugh at a joke that I only half-hear.

Despite my unresponsiveness, he doesn't give up, and is still in here talking to me when it starts to get dark outside.

I don't mean to ignore him. It's just that my mind is otherwise occupied. Actually, he'd probably be quite interested to know what with.

I'm thinking about how much I appreciate him keeping me company like this, and all that he's done for me these past couple of days. He skipped training just so that he could be here with me, and I suspect that he paid a heavy price for it but he won't admit it because he doesn't want me to worry about him. So far he's the only one who's offered to help with Henry, and did so even when I know it was hard for him to.

He didn't ask for a thing in return.

It's actually making me feel pretty guilty for putting off my answer to his proposal, though I know that's not his intent.

I find that I'm considering it much more strongly than I would've dreamed when he first asked. 

Whether I was to say yes or not I have to wonder, what is the actual point in putting it off? I guess my logic has been that I wanted to wait until this ordeal with Henry was over, but why? I might be under a little extra stress right now, but not so much that it should affect my decision-making.

Besides, it might be nice to have someone to turn to for emotional support when all is said and done with this.

I guess the biggest question on my mind right now is, what reason do I have to deny him? 

I can't think of a single one.

Before it was that I was unsure if I would be able to return the feelings he has for me, but I suspect that I already might.

I think I have for a while, but I was unwilling to admit to myself.

Be that the case, I don't foresee a much better opportunity arising than this one...

            My heart beats faster with the anticipation of what I'm about to say. "Virion,"

            I only now realize that I interrupted him in the middle of speaking, but he brushes it off with a smile. "Yes?"

            "About... your proposal."

            He swallows hard. "Yes?" 

I think he's expecting the worst, based on his nervous expression.

            Strangely, this actually helps me relax a little. "I think I'm finally ready to give you your answer. It's-"

I'm cut off by a sound I'd hoped I wouldn't hear today, the sound of Henry vomiting.

            I rush to his side without thinking, and in my panic I forget to grab the chamber pot.

That's not the biggest problem right now though. It's more important that I keep him from choking.

I turn him on his side and pull him over the edge of the bed.

As more vomit pours out of his mouth, it's caught in the chamber pot that Virion shoves under his face.

He looks thoroughly revolted, but doesn't withdraw his hand until Henry's finished.

He takes care of it without me having to ask, and comes back over with a lit candlestick.

I don't blame him for turning his head away at the sight that it illuminates.

The mess isn't the center of my focus at the moment though. It's the sheen of sweat on Henry's face.

His temperature is dangerously high.

The cloth I've taken off his head feels like it should be steaming. 

How long has he been like this and I didn't realize it?

I should've been checking on him more. Why did I let myself get so distracted?

            "I need the basin stand pitcher."

            Virion is handing it to me within seconds.

I set it on the nightstand and submerge the cloth in it.

I wring some of the water out over Henry's neck before placing the cloth once again on his forehead.

I wait a little bit and there's no change.

His fever is so high that if I can't bring it down and fast he might die.

            I tell Virion to brace himself before I strip off Henry's bloody shirt.

I splash a bit of water on his abdomen and his muscles tense.

He's waking up.

I'm not sure if this is actually a good thing, considering what I'm about to resort to.

It's not something he's going to want to be awake for.

            Disregarding the mess, I slide my arms under Henry and lift him up off the bed.

His head falls back as I carry him over to the bathtub that's still in front of the fireplace.

I'm so glad I didn't move it back out of here after the other night, because time is of the essence right now.

I point to the pitcher, and Virion brings it over as I strip off Henry's pants. 

I leave his smallclothes on for the sake of modesty and lower him into the tub.

            His eyes open a little and he moans. "Que... e-esta agatur?" 

            I take the pitcher from Virion and turn back to him with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Henry."

            He's going to wish he wasn't awake for this.

I hold the pitcher over him. 

He looks confused until I pour some of the cool water onto his chest and he yelps in surprise.

I drop to my knees and press my wrist to his wet skin.

It's cold, but warms back up at an alarming rate.

I pour more over his neck, groin, and ankles, striving to tune out his groans of discomfort lest my sense of empathy stop me from doing what I need to to help him right now.

            I feel his forehead again. There's little to no improvement, and I'm almost out of water.

            "Virion, I need you to do something for me."

            "Name it."

            I look at him over my shoulder. "Bring a bucket of well water up here just as fast as you can. Henry's life may depend on it."

            I think the last part may have scared him a bit, as he dashes out of the room without a moment's hesitation.

            I press the back of my hand to Henry's burning hot cheek.

"Stay with me now."

            I use the rest of the water sparingly, wetting only Henry's strongest pulse points and stretching it out to make it last until Virion gets back.

Just in the surprisingly short time it takes him to do so, Henry's temperature has risen almost back up to what it was.

_Please gods, don't let me be too late to save him._

            Virion stands panting behind me as I drench Henry in ice-cold well water.

I expect him to scream bloody murder at this, but he actually seems to be holding back quite a bit, more than I imagine even I could in his place.

He either has an inhuman tolerance for pain, or he's not as awake as I thought.

Both are concerning to some degree.

Whatever the case, I don't have time to ponder it. I have to keep cooling him down.

I send Virion to get more water before I run out and he comes back with two buckets.

It's working, but not fast enough.

I know what I have to do.

I dump both buckets out on Henry and go out after Virion to help him bring up more.

Between the two of us, it only takes a few minutes before Henry's submerged up to the bends of his knees.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize that his temperature is finally starting to lower.

            I turn to Virion, who's dabbing the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief.

"I think the worst is over now."

            He gives a weak smile, still breathing heavily.

            At this rate, it'll be a little bit before Henry's temperature returns to normal. I don't foresee anything going wrong in the meantime, so I deem it safe to make a trip out to the laundry room.

I tell Virion he can go, but he insists on escorting me downstairs. He continues to follow me until we enter a common room on our way out in which a many of our comrades reside.

The room falls silent the second I step through the doorway.

Every single head turns to me and the blood-soaked bundle in my arms. My comrades' expressions range from alarmed concern to disgusted horror.

No one says a word.

I have to get back up to Henry soon. I don't have time to explain anything, so I don't. 

I keep walking.

Virion stays behind, and I think I know why after noticing a couple of questioning glances at him from the others.

They must think I'm hard of hearing, as they start talking about me the second I go out the other door.

            I leave all the bloody clothes and bedding in a floor basin to soak, hurry back up to Henry's room.

When I get to the doorway however, I pause. I stare into the darkened room.

I'm hesitating, and I feel bad about it, but it's only because I know this isn't going to be easy.

I wonder if he's even still awake. He seemed a bit out of it before I went downstairs.

            "Henry?"

            He doesn't respond, not that I was expecting him to either way.

It was worth a try at least.

I take a deep breath and step inside. From here, I can make out the shine of his white hair, but that's about it.

That is, until I get a little closer.

As I approach the bathtub, I see something in the flickering light of the candlestick that almost makes me drop it.

My free hand flies to my mouth as I stumble backwards into the basin stand.

My heart is pounding as I take in the scene before me.

Henry's body is chalk-white and completely limp, and the water...

The water is dark red.

            What have I done? How could I have let this happen?

It must be a good ten seconds that I stand braced against the basin stand and staring horrified at Henry before I notice his chest move.

He's still breathing.

He's still alive.

Thank the gods.

I take a couple of deep breaths and take a lantern out of the cupboard behind me.

I light it with shaking hands and using the candle's flame.

The room brightens considerably.

My heart is still racing.

            I turn back around and step up to the tub.

With a sigh, I peer into the water.

Even by the glow of the lantern I can't see through the water, the blood is that thick.

Where is it all coming from?

I'm not sure I want to know the answer to that.

I take Henry's pulse from his lolled back neck. It's weak.

His temperature has returned to normal much faster than I thought it would, but I wasn't counting on him losing so much blood.

I have to get him out of here.

I'm not sure what the best way to go about this is, what with him being unconscious. I guess I could start by draining the tub.

            I open up the window and cold night air pours into the room, covering my arms in goosebumps. 

My breath fogs up in front of me as I dump a bucketful of bloody water out the window. 

I fill it up once again from the spicket on the bottom edge of the tub and bring it swiftly to the window.

The quicker I finish this the better, because it's freezing in here. I'm not only dry, but fully clothed and I feel cold. I want him to be awake, but for this reason alone it's probably a good thing he isn't.

            When the bath is finally drained, I slide the window panel closed with a sigh.

I look at Henry again.

His skin is stained red from all that blood. Cleaning that off will probably be the easy part.

Getting him out on the other hand... Well, I'll figure something out.

I bring over the pitcher I refilled earlier and kneel beside the tub. As I lift it up onto the edge, Henry's eyes roll beneath their lids and he begins to shiver.

He's waking up.

If he's already cold then he's not going to like this one bit, but I have to get all that blood off him somehow.

I think of starting a fire to warm the water, it could actually do more harm than good if Henry were to warm up too quickly. 

He'll just have to bear the cold for a bit longer. 

I pour a bit onto his shoulder and he tenses up with a moan.

            He squints up at me with bloodshot eyes. "...V-ventrem duele."

I don't know what he's saying, but I assume it's about the water being cold.

            "I'll try to make this quick," I assure him.

            He gives his head a weak little shake. "Hurts..."

            Now I'm concerned.

"I know it's not exactly warm, but it shouldn't-"

            "No, n-not- Ah!" He sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth and jolts forward, one hand flying to his stomach.

He stays like this for a bit, his breaths short and shallow.

            At first I thought he was going to vomit again, but now I'm not so sure.

I think the problem might be a little lower than his stomach, but more importantly: I'm pretty sure I know where all that blood was coming from.

I pick up the lantern and hold it over him, and sure enough there's blood pooling up beneath where he's sitting.

Just when I thought he'd run out of places...

            I set the lantern on the floor again.

Henry's still shaking all over.

He closes his eyes and a pair of red tears falls from them.

            "Let's get you cleaned up," I say softly.

            It doesn't take me long to do this, and as I turn around to get a towel I hear Henry start to gag.

He's leaning forward in the tub, gripping the edge so hard his knuckles are turning white.

He's straining pretty hard, but nothing's coming up.

This could just be a result of his dramatic change in body temperature over the past half hour. He probably doesn't even have anything in his stomach right now.

I'm not sure if there's anything I can do to help, save for rubbing his back and reminding him to breathe.

It goes on for long enough that I start to grow concerned, until he suddenly stops.

He leans even farther forward, and the veins in his neck bulge as he forces out a long string of thick black slime.

What in Naga's name...?

He leans back, closing his eyes as he catches his breath.

I don't even know what to think, much less what to say.

            I say nothing. I just get Henry out of the tub and wrap him in a towel.

He tries, but he can't even stand with my help, so I end up carrying him back to the bed.

I don't quite know what to do about his bleeding, except to put a folded towel underneath his waist as I lay him down. I think it's at least slowed down now so maybe it'll stop soon.

I feel his forehead once again. Still normal.

            He stares at me as I pull my hand away, and whispers something I don't quite catch. 

He clears his throat and tries again. "How long... until this is over?"

            How am I supposed to respond to that?

I don't even know what kind of answer he wants from me. I stand here, frozen for a moment, trying to think of what to say.

            I shake my head. "I don't know."

Is that all I have to say? Surely I can come up with something that might offer him even a bit of comfort.

I sit on the edge of his bed and take his hand.

"...I don't know what the gods have planned for you Henry, but I'll tell you something a brother of mine told me many years ago, when I first arrived at the monastery. He said that the hardest lives are only chosen for the souls who've strength enough to endure them. Throughout this whole trial, you have shown me so much strength... and I want you to know that whatever happens-"

I have to stop, because I'm crying.

I don't want to say it out loud, but I know that it's already happening. I think Henry knows it too.

I take a deep breath. "Whatever happens, I believe that you will have the strength and the courage to face it. You are not alone, Henry."

My vision starts to blur through my tears.

            Henry says nothing. He just stares at our joined hands with a blank expression.

He doesn't deserve this.

No one deserves this.

A moment passes in silence and I feel his grip loosen.

I look at his face and his eyes are closed, his breathing slow and steady.

I should be happy that he's sleeping peacefully, and naturally for once. If anything though my tears come faster now, despite my trying to stop them.

I should leave Henry to rest, but I don't get up. I don't even let go of his hand.

I just bow my head, and I pray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everybody!  
> If you've stuck with me this far, you're officially on my nice list.  
> This chapter was my gift to you, and if you want to give something back I would love to hear your thoughts on it.  
> I know I'm not always the best about responding, but I do appreciate all of your comments very much, even the (constructive) criticisms.  
> May your days be merry and bright, and may Libra's sleeves for once stay white.


	12. Choices

            There's a crow in the window.

Its caws rouse me awake and I look up to see it sitting there, black as night with the light of dawn to its back.

I'm on the floor. Why am I on the floor?

I hear slow, steady breathing coming from the bed beside me. I'm still in Henry's room.

The glossy bird cocks it head at me and caws again, louder.

What is it doing here?

I sit upright and pull myself to my feet using the bed's footboard. I look down at Henry and now back at the crow.

It does the same thing, only to me.

            "What do you want?" I do feel a bit silly, talking to a bird.

I'm not sure why I said that actually.

            The crow glances at Henry again and caws once more before it turns and flies away.

...

Did I open the window again last night? I don't think I did, then again I don't even remember falling asleep.

I walk across the room and slide the panel shut.

            "You should've thanked her."

I turn to see that Henry's awake and staring at me.

            "Pardon?"

            He pushes himself upright with his elbows. "The crow, she paid you a compliment."

His voice, it sounds so clear, and he's sitting up on all his own.

            "...What did she say?

            Henry shakes his head with a smile. "It doesn't translate well, but just take my word for it that it was a compliment, okay?"

            "Okay."

            I can hardly believe what I'm seeing.

What's changed? Whatever it was, I hope it doesn't change back because this is amazing.

            Henry shifts his position a bit and looks down at the towels he's wrapped in. "Hey, uh... mind telling me why I'm not wearing any clothes?"

            I'm more than happy to get Henry a spare set of clothes that I find in a supply closet, just a plain off-white tunic and some brown slacks.

            "Sorry I haven't had the chance to wash any of your clothes yet. They got a bit... messy."

            Henry finishes pulling the tunic over his head. "I know. I remember most of what's happened, there're just some parts that are kinda fuzzy."

            "I see..."

I don't ask him what he remembers. There's no point in reminding him, and whatever he has forgotten he's likely better for.

Instead I ask, "How are you feeling?"

            He smiles as though I've said something amusing. "Thirsty, and a little dizzy I guess."

            "Does your side still hurt?"

            "Yeah, but what else is new?"

Besides the sudden, unexplainable improvement in his condition? Hopefully nothing.

            I go and get some water, and also two chunks of bread. I don't expect Henry to eat it, but I leave one of them on his nightstand anyway.

I am pleasantly surprised when he actually picks it up after finishing his water. He eats slow, and only gets through about half of it, but I'm just happy to see him eating at all.

            When we're done with breakfast I give him a checkup, and what I find seems quite promising.

All of his vitals have improved drastically. His temperature is normal on its own for the first time in days, his pulse is strong and steady, even his blood pressure is better than I expect it to be.

I don't know if I dare believe it, but it sure seems like...

Like he's starting to recover.

Could it really be true?

I can't think of what else it could be, but at the same time I have to wonder what changed.

I find myself thinking of that black slime he vomited last night. I've been worrying about it ever since it happened, but what if it was actually a good thing? Maybe it was something that his body needed to do in order to begin healing itself, at least I don't imagine it would be beneficial for something so bad-looking to stay inside of him.

So I suppose it is possible...

My prayers may have been answered after all.

            Henry looks up at me as I finish double-checking his pulse. "Well, what's the verdict?"

            "Everything looks good, really good." I can't help but smile.

            He returns my expression. "Cool."

            I'm relieved beyond words to see him doing so well, though a part of me still can't help being a bit wary.

It's so surreal to see him sitting upright and talking and eating and drinking, and as far as I know not bleeding.

It's like some kind of miracle.

I keep looking at him and expecting to see him vomiting or bleeding from somewhere, but I just see him smiling at me. It isn't a grimace, or even pain-laced. It's a real, genuine smile, one that I couldn't be happier to see from him.

I'm starting to think this might really be it.

It might actually be over.

The more time I spend with Henry, the less likely it seem that something's going to go wrong. I feel myself finally start to relax and appreciate this for what it is, which is a fortunate turn of fates.

            Sometime in the early afternoon, Virion stops by to check on the both of us. He shares my joy at how much Henry's improved, but informs me that he can't stay long.

            "I was just on my way down to lunch, oh but you're welcome to join me if you'd like."

            I'm hesitant, even with Henry doing as well as he is. I don't foresee anything bad happening, but I would feel better if...

"Do you think we could eat up here?"

            Virion presses his lips into a thin line. "Hmm, I'm afraid not, you see Frederick is having me do a few tasks to make up for lost training time. Don't worry it's nothing too arduous, but you know how he values punctuality."

            I look down at the floorboards. "I see. Well then I guess you'll have to take a rain check on that. Sorry."

            He shakes his head. "Don't be, it's quite all right. I completely understand you wanting to stay up here. Why don't I just have one of the servants bring up some food for you two, yes?"

            I nod. "That would be great, thank you."

            He gives a small bow. "My pleasure."

He pulls the door shut behind him.

            I turn around to see Henry narrowing his eyes at me with a half-smile.

My immediate thought is that he's onto us. He noticed that I was being a little too friendly with Virion, and now he's figured out that there's something going on between us.

I'm trying to come up with some other explanation when he says something that contradicts my suspicion.

            "You didn't say no because of me, did you?"

            I relax at the realization that he's not thinking what I thought he was.

"Your health is more important to me, Henry."

            "My health is the best it's been in days, and that's not gonna change just because you leave for a little bit. Besides, I'm feeling kinda tired right now so I wouldn't mind the extra quiet."

            I do want to go, and when I think about it there's no logical reason why I shouldn't be able to.

Henry is doing well, and it would only be for an hour at the most...

            "Are you sure you'd be okay?"

            He laughs and waves a hand at the door. "Go already."

            I move a couple of things closer to his reach and take one last look back as I walk out the door.

As I descend the stairs I shake my head with a sigh, wondering why I'm so worked up over this.

After all, what's the worst that could happen?

            I find Virion in the great hall. He's easy enough to spot, sitting all by himself at one of the deserted tables. He's only just started eating.

I make up a plate quick and sit down across from him.

            He regards me with a warm smile. "I didn't think you would come, or else I'd have waited to start for you."

            I smile back. "You're sweet."

I close my eyes to say grace, and when I open them again Virion's still looking at me. 

"Sorry, am I bothering you?"

If he has an issue with me praying, then I might just have an issue with courting him.

            He looks surprised at this idea. "Perish the thought! On the contrary, I was just about to tell you that you could say your prayers out loud because I don't mind. I would hate to see you silence yourself on my account."

            I shake my head. "It's not that, well I guess it sort of is. I don't really think about it anymore, but I picked up the habit of praying to myself when I started spending time around people who weren't of the cloth. I guess some people are bothered by it, and others..." 

            "And others...?"

            My gaze lowers to the wood grain of the table. "I've been... mocked for such things before, mostly behind my back, but also sometimes to my face. It got to be downright tormenting at times, but I would never sacrifice my expression of faith for the sake of pride. So rather than stop praying whenever I was with others, I just stopped praying aloud around them, around anyone."

            "That's terrible."

I look up to see that Virion has his brow furrowed. "To think that anyone could be so cruel, and to you of all people... Libra, I'm so sorry that you ever had to stand for such injustice. You have my word that I would never dream of doing anything to make you feel inferior like that. By all means, feel free to pray aloud in my presence 'til your heart's content. And should anyone dare give you strife for it, then so shall they be doomed to face the wrath of Virion."

            I can't help smiling at the thought of what Virion's 'wrath' would surmount to, as he's not exactly the most intimidating person I know.

Still, whether he'd actually be able to scare any tormentors off or not, I can tell his words come from a place of caring.

I thank him for this, and we start eating.

            I ask Virion about the 'errands' he mentioned earlier,and tries to change the subject. It's clear to see why when I finally get him to show me the extensive list of chores Frederick's written up for him. He was hesitant because he didn't want me to feel guilty, but I do because I know this is my fault. He wouldn't have to do any one of those things if he hadn't skipped training to spend time helping me.

I should help him now. Any other day of this week I wouldn't have been able to, but he's in luck because today just might be different.

I have to check to make sure, and that's the only reason I don't offer before we finish our lunch and part ways.

            I go upstairs and open Henry's door just a crack.

As expected, he's sound asleep. A tray of food sits untouched on his nightstand.

Since all seems well I would leave him at that, but if this ordeal has taught me anything, it's that I'm better off safe than sorry.

I tiptoe inside and check his vitals as gently as possible. I also check all of his visible orifices for blood, gratified when I don't find any.

Everything looks good still. I think he'll be fine without me for just a couple more hours.

            I go down to the palace basement, the first place on Virion's list.

Sure enough there he is, on his hands and knees scrubbing the corridor floor by the dim light of the wall torches.

            "Hey," I say.

            His head snaps up and he looks at me over his shoulder. "Libra, what a surprise, and a pleasant one at that. I... hope this doesn't come across as rude, but what are you doing here exactly?"

            I step up beside him so that we can see each other better. "I came to help, and I won't take no for an answer. You were there for me when I needed you, and now it's your turn."

            He sits up on his knees and wipes his hands together. "I see... but what about Henry?"

            I'm surprised he's considerate enough to think of him, though at this point I probably shouldn't be. 

"He's fine, sleeping actually so I doubt he'll even know I'm gone."

            Virion sighs, as if contemplating his options. "I suppose I do have a spare brush, I'm just not sure how I feel about putting you to work like this."

            I get down on my knees beside him and take the extra brush out of his bucket.

"I hardly consider this to be work."

            When I've finished helping him scrub the basement floor, we go on to clean all of the glass windows, polish everyone's armor, sharpen weapons, dust surfaces, organize shelves, and now we work on stocking the firewood supply.

            It's brisk outside, especially with a cover of storm clouds blocking out all the warmth of the sun. I'm just glad there's no wind, otherwise I'd be freezing what with the sweat I'm working up. 

As I bring my axe down on another log, Virion looks up from his own work and smiles at me.

            I wipe my damp forehead off with the back of my hand. "Have I done something amusing?"

            "No, it's just that this brings back some rather fond memories, wouldn't you agree?"

            I let the head of my axe rest on the chopping block. "You mean when we did this for that temple? I thought you were miserable then."

            He sets his axe down completely. "Ah, and that's where you're wrong, my dear man. You see while my arms may have been miserable, there was nothing I'd have rather been doing than spending that time with you."

            I narrow my eyes at that. "Surely there are other things you would've preferred to do with me."

            He nods. "Certainly, but none of those things would have resulted in you saving me like you did. It was because of those precise circumstances that I realized you are no delicate flower, but something else entirely, something not only exceedingly rare and beautiful but also tough and tenacious. It was in that moment that I came to understand I was hopelessly infatuated with you."

            "...But that was two years ago. You mean to say that all this time-?"

            "And forevermore. No matter if we're worlds apart, Libra, I will never stop being in love with you. Even if it pained me so that I wished I could forget you entirely, you will always hold a special place in my heart." His eyes widen a bit as if he's just realized something.

"Of course I don't say this to make you feel guilty, please don't misunderstand. I just want you to know that, lest you come up with an alternative, less-than-honorable explanation for my wanting to spend time with you."

            I believe him. Just considering the fact that I've spent the whole afternoon with him and not even once has he brought up the answer I almost gave him last night, I think is proof enough of his sincerity. 

I almost do it. I almost say what I was going to last night, here and now.

I actually open my mouth to say the words, but Gaius walks by on the other side of the yard and I back out, going back to log-splitting.

Not here, not out in the cold when we're both exhausted and have no privacy.

I wait for a better time.

I wait until we're done with the firewood, done with everything, until the sun's started to set and we finally stop to rest.

            We're sitting on a window bench in a deserted hall. Virion's double-checking his list to make sure we didn't miss anything, and I'm looking over my shoulder at the gloomy view outside.

            "I think I can safely say that we did everything. Thank you for helping me, Libra. I doubt many others would have stayed with me so long, especially with all you have going on."

            I turn my head away from the window to look at him. "It was the least I could do."

            "I should think not. I don't expect you to repay me for my favors to you before, otherwise they'd hardly be favors at all. I do appreciate your help very much, but I don't want you to feel like it was mandatory."

Always the gentleman.

            I shake my head. "I wanted to do it."

            He smiles at this. "That's all I ask."

            The words are on the tip of my tongue, they have been for the past half hour. All this time I've been ready to say it, just waiting for the right moment, and now that the moment has finally arrived I feel anxious.

My mouth is as dry as if I've been swallowing sand.

            Virion remarks on the state of the sky. "Oh my, how dreary. I do hope it doesn't rain, though I suppose it's almost too cold for rain now, wouldn't you say?"

            I nod, not hearing a word he says as he continues talking.

            I'm going to be heading back upstairs soon, and then I'll lose my chance. I'm not sure I'll get another opportunity as good as this one.

It's now or never.

            I take a deep breath. "Yes."

            I've interrupted him again, for the second time in two attempts at this. He doesn't seem annoyed though, just confused. "Yes what?"

            Now I feel foolish. Surely there was a better way to say that. 

My cheeks grow warm. "My answer."

            He still looks confused. "Wait, are we no longer talking about storm clouds?"

            I do my best to stop my hand from shaking as I place it on his shoulder.

My heart races as I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek.

This is what people are supposed to do, isn't it? Maybe not in this exact spot, but right now this all I feel comfortable with.

            Virion's eyes are closed when I pull away, and he opens them with a slight smile.

"Oh, that answer."

He looks thoughtful. "So is it safe to guess that you'll be having supper with me?"

            "I would like that, but I really ought to check on Henry first."

            He gives a single nod. "I understand. Shall I wait for you in the great hall then?"

            I don't want to make a promise I can't keep, but I don't foresee any reason I wouldn't be able to make it.

I nod.

Virion rises to his feet and extends a hand. I shake my head with a smile as I take it and stand up.

            "Until then," He kisses the back of my hand, light as a feather, and now walks away.

            I'm still smiling as I walk back up the stairs.

Not so much when I open Henry's door to see him curled up tight on his bed, holding his side and shedding silent, bloody tears.

Oh gods, no.

            "Henry."

I walk up to him, feeling my head shake in disbelief. 

I don't want to believe it.

            He was doing so well. what went wrong? How long has he been like this? 

            I reach a hand toward his shoulder and he recoils.

"No, don't! Don't touch me!"

He turns his head to look up at me with bloody eyes, and his voice cracks as he says, "I don't want to hurt you."

He thinks he's losing control again.

The thought does make me nervous, as I still have a mark on my wrist from before, but at the same time that was different. That was him touching me, not the other way around.

Henry needs my help right now, and I deem it worth the risk.

            I extend my hand again, and Henry tries, but his pain appears to stop him from moving away. 

"What are you doing? Stop!"

            If I thought for a second that Henry's problem was actually with me touching him I wouldn't even consider doing this, but I know this is what he needs.

"I trust you." I touch my fingertips to his shoulder, and now the rest of my hand.

            When nothing happens Henry seems to relax, at least as much as his pain will allow him to.

He grimaces and curls forward again. "Libra,"

He's breathing heavy.

"This- this is it, I can feel it."

            I pull my hand away from his shoulder as he begins to shake. "This is what?"

            He takes in a sharp gasp and squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm not going... t-to-"

            "Calm down, Henry. Deep breaths."

He's beginning to scare me.

            He looks up at me again and shakes his head. "I'm not going to make it through the night."

            "O-of course you are. Don't you remember how much better you were earlier? I'm sure this is just a temporary relapse, and- and you'll be back to normal in no time."

I turn around and reach for my medical bag. Now I'm the one who's shaking.

"Hang on just a second. I'll get you some painkillers, and then you'll feel-"

            "Libra,"

            With one hand in my bag, I look at him over my shoulder and my vision blurs with tears.

"What?"

            He lets out a small grunt. "Tonight."

            _No Henry, you can't do this to me._

Why? Why is this happening now? 

I thought he was supposed to be recovering, did I just miss something?

How long has he been suffering and I wasn't in here to realize it and help him? What if there was something I could've done to stop him from getting to this point?

I should've been in here with him, I should never have left in the first place. What was I thinking?

I wasn't, that's the problem.

            I stare at the blurred sight of Henry and shake my head.

I scold myself for getting caught up in the details. I made a mistake, but lingering on it isn't going to make it any better. What might help is figuring out the actual problem here.

"What do you need, Henry?"

            "You t-to stay." He clenches his jaw. "I don't want... to die alone."

            I approach him again and pick up his freezing-cold hand. "Don't worry, I won't leave again."

I'm glad that he doesn't look up when I say this, so he doesn't see the tears falling from my eyes.


	13. Cold as Snow

            Henry empties the contents of his stomach into the bucket I'm holding for him.

It was closer than the chamber pot.

His vomit is black, much like that slime from last night, but with more of the consistency of blood.

I think that's exactly what it is.

I'm beginning to doubt that this is such a good thing after all. At first I thought it might be beneficial for his body to be ridding itself of this stuff, but really all it means is that there's too much of it for his body to handle. His expelling probably isn't even making a difference; it's just adding to his suffering.

            I sit down again after taking care of the vomit, and wipe some sweat off of Henry's forehead. His perspiration isn't from a fever, though I truly wish it was. A fever at least would be better than the alternative, which is that he's freezing cold.

His lowered temperature must be making the room feel hot to him, and tricking his body into compensating. At least that would explain why I can't get him to keep the blanket on.

It's strange for his temperature to be as low as it is. Actually it's quite rare except for in people...

People who are dying.

I hate to even entertain the thought, but it is seeming more and more likely.

In some ways he's better than he has been at times before, like how he's able to speak mostly coherently. In other ways though, he's so much worse.

His web of blackened blood vessels is bigger and darker than ever before, he's bleeding constantly from multiple orifices, and his pain...

            Henry starts to turn onto his side, but falls back with a whimper and a grimace. He keeps doing that, stopping mid-motion as though the simplest movements are too excruciating for him to bear.

I offer to help him turn over and he insists he's okay. He keeps doing that too, telling me he's fine when I know he's not, even before he vomited just now.

He doesn't want me to worry about him.

            Why did I leave him earlier? How could I have let myself think for a second that it was a good idea?

I guess at the time I sincerely believed he was getting better, after all he sure seemed to be. How was I supposed to know that his illness wasn't actually over?

I couldn't have, but I should've suspected it. After all that this ordeal has taught me, I should've known better than to leave Henry alone for such a long time, no matter how well he seemed to be doing. At the very least I could've come back to check on him sooner.

I can't help but wonder if I had, if I'd noticed the problem when it first started, would I have been able to stop it from getting this bad?

If I could've, I don't think I want to know.

            It's dark outside now. It has been for- well, I'm not actually sure how long.

Henry looks like he might be trying to sleep, but with little success. He's obviously exhausted, but he's also hurting too much to let himself relax.

If he does want to sleep, it brings up a question I don't want to ask him. My hesitation however, is born more from self-interest than Henry's prospective well-being. 

I would feel even worse about being gone earlier if I thought that Henry needed me to help him sleep through his suffering before now.

Still, even if the answer makes me feel horrible, the worst thing I could do is not ask at all.

            I sigh, and speak in a soft voice. "I have something I can give you, Henry. It'll make you sleep through the rest of this if that's what you want. Do you want that?"

            He gives his head a weak little shake. "That's n-not how... I wanna go."

            Feeling relieved, I nod. "I understand. Just know that you do have the option."

            His gaze drifts down to the edge of the bed and grows distant. He says nothing more.

After a while I notice that he's gripping the sheet beneath him, hard.

How long has he been doing that?

He takes in a sharp breath through clenched teeth and his grip tightens.

            "Henry..."

            He doesn't respond. He just moans and lets his eyes roll back.

Suddenly he jolts forward so hard his back lifts off the bed, and he brings his knees up, squeezing his side.

He doesn't scream, though he looks like he wants to. I think he might actually be holding his breath in attempt not to.

            Unsure how else to comfort him, I place a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, you're going to be okay. Just relax. Breathe, keep breathing."

            His breaths come out as grunts, broken at first but they return to normal before too long, at least to the raspy and rapid ones that have become his normal.

Eventually, hesitantly, Henry lies down again with my help.

He's shaking all over, and has crimson tear streaks on his face.

            He looks up at me and clears his congested throat. "Libra, do you think you c-could do... something for me?"

            "Of course, what is it?"

            He hesitates, closing his eyes and holding his breath for a second before he continues. "My crow friends... Can you look after them when- when I'm-"

More bloody tears well in his eyes.

"...Tell them I said goodbye."

            I don't like hearing that kind of talk from him, but I can't let myself be too upset by it when I'm starting to believe it's necessary.

            I nod, feeling the sting of tears in my own eyes as I struggle to hold them back. "I will. Is there anything else?"

            He thinks about it for a moment, and now assumes a weak smile. "Yeah, bury my tomes with me. You n-never know, I might... end up needing them."

Henry gives a small laugh, which turns into a cough, which turns into a towel soaked in black blood and him on his side, leaning over the edge of the bed and gasping for breath.

He swallows hard, clutching his chest and squeezing his eyes shut as he falls onto his back again.

That took a lot out of him.

He doesn't open his eyes again for a long time, actually I don't notice when he does because I'm busy rolling up a sleeve that got some of his blood on it.

            "I'm sorry."

I look up to see him staring at me with red, half-closed eyes.

            I make a feeble attempt at a reassuring smile. "It's fine, it'll wash."

            He shakes his head. "No, I mean..." He takes a short breath.

"I'm sorry f-for that one night, before we took the outpost. You were just trying... to make things right, and- and I got so mad at you. You didn't deserve that."

Is he talking about that conversation he overheard by the campfire?

That was so long ago. Has he been feeling bad about his reaction this whole time?

            I furrow my brow. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

            "I don't want you t-to think I died mad at you, because I'm... not. I'm just sorry it took me so long t-t-" He takes in a sharp gasp.

            I pick up his ice-cold hand. "Sshh, it's okay. I understand."

            He catches his breath and closes his eyes, seeming to relax for a bit before his whole body tenses up in pain again.

After a moment he shakes his head, and his voice cracks as he whispers, "I'm not ready for this."

            My throat tightens along with my grip on his hand, and I struggle to keep my voice steady as I search for any words that might offer him some comfort.

All I come up with though is, "We never really are."

            The edge of my hand is touching Henry's wrist, and what I feel here makes my throat tighten even harder.

His pulse is weak.

He doesn't have much longer.

I don't think I'm ready for this either.

            Henry has yet another episode of pain. It doesn't seem as bad as the first one, but I think he might just be too weak to show how much he's really suffering.

He doesn't speak again, not for a long time. 

He's shaking all over, drenched in sweat and struggling to breathe. I'm still holding his hand.

He looks up at me for the first time in over an hour, and a couple of tears fall from his eyes.

The grim expression on his face tells me all I need to know.

This is it.

            He gives me a sad smile and whispers, "Thank you... for everything."

            I don't respond, because I know I would start crying and I don't want that to be the last thing he sees.

I just smile back the best I'm able to, and stroke his hand with my thumb.

When Henry's grip loosens, my breath catches in my throat because I know...

I know he didn't just fall asleep. His eyes are still open.

I bite my trembling lip and reach up to close them.

I don't let go of his hand, I can't just yet.

...I should say a prayer. I don't know any Grimleal ones, but I also don't think Henry was a Grimleal. In fact I remember him telling me once that he didn't believe in the gods, so I don't think he would mind if I spoke to one of mine.

            "Dear Naga... may Henry's soul find peace in your glorious light, and- and may-" I'm getting choked up. Suddenly I can't remember the words.

I take a deep breath. I have to control myself. I have to do this for him.

I swallow my tears and try again. "...May he take his place-" I cover my mouth as a sob escapes from it.

I can't do it, I can't even think clearly. 

            I decide to wait at least until I stop crying, but this doesn't happen.

I wait until birds start chirping outside and the tears still haven't stopped.

Footsteps go up and down the hall and I don't so much as move from this chair.

I let go of Henry's hand some time ago, but I still haven't covered him over. I can't take my eyes off his body, hoping that if I look at him long enough I might come to appreciate how peaceful he looks, and that his suffering has come to an end. 

It doesn't work. 

All I see is an empty shell, a life that ended too soon and too painfully.

I don't even look away from him when I hear a knock at the door, followed by Virion's voice.

            "Libra? Are you in there?"

             _This is his fault_ _,_ a voice in my head pipes up.

_If it wasn't for him I never would've left Henry alone. He wouldn't have died this way, with so little warning._

_...Or he might not have died at all._

I still don't turn around when I hear the door click open, or Virion's gasp as he takes in the scene before him.

            "Oh my- Is he...?"

            I say nothing, but the shaking breath that escapes my lips is answer enough for him.

            He steps up beside me. "Libra, I'm so sorry."

He places a hand on my shoulder. 

            "Don't touch me!" I surprise myself by the shrillness of my broken voice.

            He withdraws his hand in a heartbeat, hesitating before he speaks again. "Is there anything at all I can do?"

            "Leave me alone."  

            I don't look up to see what Virion's expression is, but I do detect the concern in his voice when he says, "...You know, you probably shouldn't stay-"

            "I said leave me alone."

            In the very corner of my vision I see him give a solemn nod. "As you wish. Just know that if you need someone, I'm here for you."

He leaves without another word.

            Why did I do that? Why was I so rude to him just now? 

Why did I listen to that irrational voice in my head saying this was his fault when I know that's not true?

This is my fault. There's no one to blame but me, least of all Virion. All he ever did was try to help, and how did I repay his kindness?

I treated him no better than if he'd done this to Henry himself. And yet, despite knowing all of this I still can't seem to bring myself to go and apologize. I think this might be because while Virion didn't ask me to abandon Henry, it was because of him that I did. He didn't do anything wrong, but he's still the reason that I messed up, and I don't think I can get over that just yet.

He was right about one thing, I probably shouldn't stay in here, but I do. I don't find the motivation to leave until none other than Frederick comes up here and gently coaxes me to.

There's no way he knew to come here by chance; Virion must have sent him. 

I would think that he'd be the last person I want to see right now, but he's being uncharacteristically gentle. He speaks softly, and waits patiently while I cover Henry over with a sheet and finish my prayer from earlier.

            I find myself walking downstairs behind Frederick without having decided to. My legs feel numb, and seem to carry me all on their own.

Most of my comrades are standing in the main hall, looking up at us anxiously.

They know something's wrong. Of course they do, Frederick's escorting me down the stairs, and if that doesn't give it away I'm sure my puffy red eyes do.

They know what's happened, they must because I don't even have to say a word. As I step onto the floor I simply look at Robin and shake my head, and that's all it takes.

There's a collective sigh and everyone looks at the floor.

After a moment of silence Robin approaches me slowly, hesitating. She's unsure of what to do.

She opens her arms, offering me an embrace, but I raise a hand to stop her.

            "...Can you tell me where the palace chapel is please?"

            Folding her arms, she nods and gives me directions.

I thank her, and my legs carry me out of the room.

            The echo of my footsteps on the corridor floor sounds hollow and distant, much like the way I'm feeling right now.

I walk past a window, the same one that Virion and I sat in front of last night. I shake my head with the thought of being down here with him while Henry was upstairs, alone and suffering. I almost keep walking, until I notice the white flakes swirling outside the glass.

The ground is covered in a fresh blanket of snow, the first snow of the year.

Normally I would be glad for such a pretty sight, but right now it just makes me think of Henry, and my head aches with the tears I'm trying to hold back.

He can't really be gone, can he? Can this really be over?

I feel like I should be happy that he isn't suffering anymore, but how can I be when it means that he'll never experience any other feelings either? He'll never feel joy or love or comfort ever again, at least not in this world and time.

I walk away from the window before I can make myself cry.

            The palace chapel is bigger than I expect it to be. It could almost be a small church on its own. It has a high, arched ceiling, and tall stained glass windows that depict the images of our primary gods. 

As I walk to the front of the room, I'm bathed in blue-green light that pours in through the mosaic of the dragon goddess, Naga.

I've seen the image a thousand times, the divine dragon in all her radiance, blessing the earth with light and life. Never once has the sight graced my eyes and made me feel anything but hope and peace, not until this morning that is.

I wonder why I don't feel comforted being in here. I suppose it's because it's kind of hard to remember all the life that Naga does give us when last night she allowed one to be taken.

Everything that I believe tells me there must be a reason, I just wish she could tell me what it is.

            Though I know she can't really do that, it doesn't stop me from asking.

"...And I understand that you decided it was Henry's time, but why? Why take him so young, and in such a way that..." I pause, shaking my head.

"Need his death have been so agonizing? Had he not already suffered enough in his lifetime? What did he ever do to deserve a fate like his?" I take a deep breath, struggling to retain my composure.

"...I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be asking so many questions, I just need to understand this. Gods, humble me with your grace and grant me clarity... so that I may one day come to peace with Henry's-" That's it. I can't hold the tears back any longer.

            I don't leave the chapel when I've finished praying, or even when I'm pretty sure I've finished crying. I tell myself this is because I find solace here, but I know this is a lie. What I really find here is solitude. This is one of the few places I'm likely to be left alone right now, and as much as I care about my comrades, I don't want to see any of them at the moment.

When I finally do leave, it's to go to my room, and I go there as quickly and quietly as possible. Fortunately, no one seems to notice me, or if they do they don't say anything. The main hall is deserted by now, and I don't have to stop once the whole way up to my room. I do, however, when I reach my door and hear a small noise.

It almost sounded like a voice... coming from Henry's room.

I look behind me and there it is again, definitely a voice, a man's one.

Who could be in there, and why is he talking?

I walk across the hall and turn an ear to Henry's door.

            "...didn't mean to hurt you, especially not when you were already hurting."

It sounds like... Frederick? Can that be right?

"I guess somehow I just didn't realize that until it was too late."

Yes, it's definitely Frederick. What is he doing in there?

"I misjudged you, Henry. I misjudge a lot of people and I don't mean to. It's... It's my duty as a knight to protect the royal family from harm, and in doing so I fear I often end up causing harm to others. This time it was you. I didn't make things easy for you, and I said some things that I regret... very much." He sniffles. His voice is higher than usual.

"I'm so sorry, Henry. I'm sorry I ever doubted you or questioned you or hurt you. That wasn't my intention, I just-" He sobs.

"...I know I don't deserve it, but if you can hear me Henry, I only ask that you find it in your heart to forgive me... because I'll never forgive myself."

            I cover my mouth, and my vision blurs with tears as I walk back over to my room and step inside.

I lean back against the closed door and slide down to the floor, making no effort this time to stop the tears.

Frederick wouldn't have wanted me to hear that, and I'd just as soon not have. Hearing him confess his regrets like that is reminding me too much of my own.

            It seems a bit hard to believe now, but when I first met Henry, I didn't like him. I've always tried so hard not to judge people without cause, but with him it was different. 

I hate myself for ever succumbing to such prejudice, but I shared in others' apprehension about having yet another Plegian in our army. It was the Plegians who caused the death of our Exalt, after all.

It wasn't just that though, there was also his personality. He was crude and irreverent and his crows were intimidating. I didn't approve of his lust for bloodshed and I also thought he smiled too much.

What I wouldn't give to see that smile again now...

It wasn't until I witnessed how courageous and selfless he could be on the battlefield that I began to think twice about my opinion of him. Though he still acted just as crude and sadistic, I came to realize that he had a more benevolent side to him. Eventually I grew to hold him in high respect. In fact, my respect for him was part of the reason I volunteered to care for him in the first place.

Looking back on it, I can't help but think that things would've been easier if I'd never made these observations. I never would've formed an attachment to Henry if I had just paid a little less attention. I wouldn't have been watching him during the outpost battle, and wouldn't have saved him from those Plegian soldiers. They would've killed him there and then and it would've been so much quicker and less painful than what he had to go through instead. He'd be resting in peace already and I wouldn't be sitting here crying right now. And after all, wouldn't that have been better for everyone?

Maybe, but even if that were true, if the gods sent me back to that very moment right now, I know in my heart that I couldn't let it happen. 

Except for stopping Henry from being stabbed in the first place, there isn't a thing I would change.

Knowing this makes it a little easier to imagine one day accepting this situation for what it is... One day.

            My tears soon slow to a stop. I pick myself up and walk over to my nightstand to look for a spare handkerchief.

I don't find one, but I do find a plate of biscuits sitting here, along with a glass of water and a neatly folded note. 

Curiosity gets the better of me. I pick up the paper and open it up to see perhaps the loopiest, most intricately calligraphic script one could imagine.

The message is much simpler than the handwriting. It reads:  _My deepest condolences -Love, Virion._

He thinks I'm mad at him. I suppose I was, for a short time before I came to my senses. Now I'm just mad at myself for leaving Henry to spend time with him, and for letting these feelings make me say hurtful things to him. Yet still, even knowing how badly he deserves an apology from me, the thought of facing him right now...

I just need some time.

Time, and an idea of what to with these biscuits because the very sight of food is making me feel like I might vomit.

            I take the plate outside, out into the middle of a snowy courtyard. It's coming down hard out here, and building up quite a layer on the ground. Normally I have a certain fondness for snow, but I don't feel normal right now, and all I can think about is how cold the wind is and how wet my boots will be when I go back inside.

There's no sense in complaining to myself though, especially when I chose to come out here.

I break one of the biscuits up and drop the pieces on the ground. I don't mean to disrespect Virion's kind gesture, but I'm not going to eat these and someone might as well enjoy them. As I break up a second biscuit, I hear a caw from a nearby tree. I look up just in time to see a crow fly over here. It pecks at the biscuit and caws again, and a second crow seems to appear out of nowhere. I drop some more pieces and before I know it there's a small murder of them at my feet. 

They all keep cocking their heads up at me as if trying to discern whether I'm friend or foe. The fact that they came over here in the first place is surprising unless they're already used to being around humans, or being around one human, one who isn't here to feed them anymore.

            One crow stares at me while the others are eating. It takes me a minute, but I notice that it seems to cock its head a little differently, in a way that seems eerily familiar. 

It looks up at the palace and now back at me and caws.

It's her, the crow that came to Henry's window, it's unmistakable. 

She looks like she's waiting for something other than a biscuit.

I remember the promise I made to Henry, that I would look after his crows for him, that I would tell them...

            I take a deep breath. I still feel silly talking to birds, but a promise is a promise. "Henry..."

            At the mention of his name, every one of their little heads shoots up. Of course, it was probably just the sound of my voice that made them all look.

            I clear my throat. "Henry asked me to tell you goodbye for him." My lip starts to tremble, and not from the cold.

"...He's gone."

            The crows start cawing up a storm.

It's almost as if they actually understood me.

The one that was staring at me lowers her head solemnly.

They all seem pretty upset. I should probably leave now.

I drop the last biscuit on the ground, and one of the crows jumps up and pecks at my lowered hand.

I start to bleed.

It caws at me, and I look down just as the one from Henry's window comes and chases it away. 

I look at the blood on my hand. I'm not upset with the crow, I'm not even annoyed. I just feel sad thinking that it hurt me for the same reason that I hurt Virion, which is Henry.

These birds really loved him.

            "I'm sorry," I say, and I go back inside.

            I go up to my room again, taking the empty plate with me because I don't feel like making a trip to the kitchen right now.

I open my window and sit down on my bed to watch the snow fall. 

I feel numb, and not from the cold breeze blowing into my room. It's like I don't even feel this, the same way I don't feel anything.

It seems strange to think that I was crying not long ago, as it's hard to imagine doing so now. At the same time though it's not, because I think if I feel anything right now besides empty it's sad.

            After a while Maribelle comes up here to keep my company. She's concerned by the peck mark on my hand, but doesn't question me about it as she gets out some bandages.

She tells me a couple of lighthearted stories from her childhood. I think she's trying to distract me from my grief.

I only wish it were that easy.

Perceptive as she is, Maribelle seems to sense my need for solitude and doesn't stay too long.

            After she leaves I stare at my bandaged hand for a bit before I go back to watching the snow fall.

I do this until it gets so dark I can no longer see it. 

I give it my best try, but I don't fall asleep.

It's impossible to when I keep thinking about Henry lying lifeless in his own bed just across the hall.

Though my night is restless, I don't get out of bed. I just keep lying here and holding out on the hope that any moment now...

The moment actually does come, when I start to see the faintest light coming through my window, that I drift off.

When I wake however, my room is hardly brighter at all. I don't think I was out for very long, just long enough to feel disoriented.

In my fatigued state, my first thought is that I should go check on Henry.

Then I remember, and as much as I don't want it to, my day starts out with tears.

            I still don't feel like seeing anyone, but I go downstairs regardless because I also don't want my comrades to worry about me. Fortunately, it's early enough that hardly any of them are up.

I do run into Virion, and though I probably I shouldn't, I avoid him.

I walk into a common room where I'm greeted by Lissa, Stahl, and Miriel.

I really think I can do it. I really try to stay in here and listen to them offer their condolences and pretend that I'm okay.

The problem is that I'm not, and when Lissa tries to hug me I end up quickly excusing myself from the room.

I hide away in a nearby corridor, because I don't know this palace well enough to find a quiet room, and because I lose my will to look for one when I start crying.

There are no benches here, so I just sit on the floor. I'm sure I look rather pathetic at the moment, but I really couldn't care less.

Will I ever be able to get over this?

Probably, but it sure doesn't feel like it now. And I know for certain that no matter how much time passes, I will never heal from it completely.

            I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here when I hear someone's footsteps approaching me. The sound stops, and I look up to see Frederick standing in front of me.

            He clears his throat. "I er, I just wanted to let you know that we'll be moving Henry's body soon. So if- if you wanted to say goodbye or anything, you should do it now. You know, or not. It's up to you."

            I dry my eyes and rise to my feet. "Thank you."

            He gives a nod and starts to walk away, but pauses, looking back at me. "One more thing..." He takes a deep breath.

"I-I'm sorry... for Henry's death, and for the things I said about him when he was alive. That was, for lack of more accurate words, a shitty thing to do and I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." He shakes his head and looks at the floor.

            "I forgive you." I believe this is true, but even if it wasn't I know it's what he needs to hear, or else he might never get over this either.

            He looks up again, eyes widened at first but he quickly assumes an expression of humility. "You show me more kindness than I deserve."

He walks away before I can respond.

            I don't think I'm going to do it. in fact I tell myself I won't, but sure enough I find my legs carrying me up the stairs to Henry's room with no idea as to why.

I can't imagine how seeing his dead body is going to help me cope. I know I'm just going to end up upsetting myself.

And yet I still go in there.

Well, the smell isn't bad, or at least not strong enough yet to be detected over the blood that Henry excreted when he died.

I will myself to look at him, and sigh when I see that some of that blood has soaked through the sheet he's covered in.

I probably shouldn't have come here. I don't even have anything that I want to say. I guess I'm just so desperate to find some closure that I convinced myself it was a good idea.

I want to leave, but I can't leave him like he is. I should at least offer him a bit of dignity and change his sheet.

I get one out of the dresser and, bracing myself, I pull back the one he's covered in. He's ghostly pale, but he doesn't actually look too bad except- 

Oh gods.

I can't believe it wasn't the first thing I noticed, but his tunic is covered in black blood. The sheet must have been tight enough over him that it didn't touch it, but he is completely soaked.

Where could it all have come from?

...There's only one place it could have, but it doesn't make sense.

All of his cuts were healed.

I have to find out the cause of this before I can leave him.

            I lift up his tunic to look at the scar of his stab wound, only it's no longer a scar.

It's opened up again.

This did happen once before, when we were on our way here, but that was different. His wound hadn't healed completely then, but by the time he died it had, so there's no reason why he should be bleeding right now.

Maybe it has something to do with the blackened skin there. The blood covering it so thick it's hard to see, but it does look awfully dry...

I take a deep breath and reach out and touch Henry's wound. More black blood seeps out with the movement of his skin and it cracks. The skin around his wound is so dried out that it cracks at my light touch and bleeds even more.

If it was anywhere near this bad when he was alive, then it's no wonder he struggled with it so much. I can't even imagine how painful that must have been.

It's not going to be easy, but I have to try and stitch him up, or else find a way to drain out the rest of this blood because I can't let him be buried like this.

            I start by cleaning him up with a wet towel.

As I wipe some blood off of his lower abdomen, I'm shocked to see how clean his skin looks, clean and vein-less.

I can't see his blood vessels at all.

I continue cleaning up his blood, and see that it's like this everywhere. The blackening in his blood vessels has receded to all but a small area around the wound itself, where they're not even bulging anymore.

Now I'm even more confused. I figured the blood leakage was just that: a leakage of Henry's bodily fluids, a normal occurrence in dead bodies. But for a corpse to actually bleed, to force blood out of what should be stagnant channels?

It's unheard of.

That is, unless he's...

No, it's not possible. I watched him die with my own eyes. Not only that, but I held his hand for hours afterward. If he was still alive I would've felt his pulse.

But if there's even the slightest chance...

            He's still cold to the touch, even on his neck.

This is probably because he's dead, and for me to be entertaining any alternative notion is likely nothing more than an expression of my grief. There must be some explanation for his 'bleeding' that I just haven't thought of.

With two fingers still on Henry's lifeless neck, I heave a saddened sigh and this is when I feel it.

A heartbeat.

It's just one, and I wait but another doesn't follow.

I must've been mistaken. My fingers must have twitched or else I imagined it completely.

I do wish he was alive, apparently more so than I thought if it's making me perceive things that aren't there. 

I shake my head, and start to pull away when there it is again.

It seems unmistakable, but how can it be so? His last pulse was over ten seconds ago. A heart rate that slow would be enough to kill someone on its own, wouldn't it?

I suspect that I'm imagining things, but it's worth waiting just to see...

I think that I'm getting my hopes up for nothing, but ten seconds later Henry's heart beats again.

I can't believe it. I don't believe it.

Though I want to, I refuse to let myself hope for something so impossible and risk being disappointed, at least not without clearer proof.

            I'm trying to think of a way to obtain this when Frederick enters the room along with two men wearing black hooded cloaks.

            "Oh, my apologies Libra." The knight looks up at me, one hand still on the doorknob. "I didn't realize you were in here... I er, suppose we could wait outside if you wish to finish with your business, but these men can't stay here long so I'm afraid you'll have to make it brief."

            I shake my head.

            Frederick looks unsure how to interpret this, and hesitates before saying, "Do you mean to say that you're already finished?"

            I shake my head again. "He's alive."

I have to say this whether I believe it or not, because if there's even the tiniest chance that it's true...

            Frederick has his companions wait outside and closes the door behind them.

"Libra..." He sighs. "I know you were close to Henry, and that you dedicated much of your time to caring for him, but he's gone now. Gods know that's not an easy thing to accept, but-"

            I shake my head again. "No, I mean it. He really is alive." I go over to my medical bag, which is still in here, and take out a lancet. 

"I'll prove it, come here."

            He looks wary at the sight of the surgical tool, but also seems to take note of my calmness and decides to humor me.

He approaches Henry's bedside and watches as I hold the blade under his nose.

This had better work. It has to or else Frederick will think I'm mentally unstable, and I'm not sure I'd be able to argue with him.

After a moment when nothing happens, he gives me a look of concerned pity.

I start to feel anxious, wondering if maybe he's right to be worried about me, if it's possible that I could've just imagined the whole thing, and this is when it happens.

            "Look."

            Frederick follows my gaze to the lancet blade as two spots of fog from Henry's breath appear on it.

            "By gods... but he was..."

            My lips curve into the faintest of smiles and I breathe a sigh of relief. "Not anymore."

 

            It's another month before Henry wakes up from his coma.

By this time I've long since made amends with Virion, and the war has taken a turn for the better now that we've gained more allies from Regna Ferox.

We return to the Ylisstol palace after yet another victorious battle, and I go up to Henry's room to see that he's stirring.

I sit with him for a while and tears of joy well in my eyes as I watch his flutter open.

            He squints up at me and gives a weak smile. "You have blood on your shirt."

It's from this morning's battle. I didn't think to change before coming up here.

            I return his smile. "Hey, for once, it's not yours."

            He laughs at this. "You know? I think I'm actually gonna miss that part."

I hope he's kidding.

            Henry gets his strength back within just a couple of weeks, and it only takes me this long to convince Frederick, among a few others, that he is in fact not a Risen.

Though the war is still going, and we both still bear scars, when Henry gets back on his feet for the first time, I begin to realize that everything might just be okay after all.

 

**_FIN_  
**


End file.
